The 227th Hunger Games: Dollhouse
by Annabeth-TheTributeThatLived
Summary: Welcome boys and girls, young and old to the third installment of my Hunger Games series! Join our third group of tributes as they navigate an arena unlike anything that's ever been done before. Because the true principle of the Games is control. Rated T for language and violence.
1. Prologue I

_All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players._  
 _They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.  
-_Shakespeare, As You Like It

* * *

The President's Study, January 14th, 3:00 pm

 **Thorburn Baxwell (46) POV  
**

 **President of Panem**

With the Victory Tour for the 226th Hunger Games having just ended, I found it to be the perfect time to discuss the matter of the 227th Hunger Games with my chief adviser, Leporis Fleetwood. The Victory Tour had been successful, with no real outbursts from Alicia Schripe's gang of rebels. The pleasant thought of them being subdued made me want to make this year's Games the best in history.

"All I'm saying is that over the years, I think we've lost sight of what the Games should be about." I turn to face my adviser, looking him more directly in the eye. "Don't you think, Leporis?"

"Wholeheartedly," he says, hesitating a bit. He reaches for a cup of tea, and I notice a twitch in his fingers. He's nervous, no doubt about it. I decide to take the opportunity to mess with him a bit more.

"Now tell me," I begin, lifting my own cup. "What are the Games really about?"

"Balance," he replies. "Paying for what our ancestors did in the past. Keeping order."

"Not exactly," I say. "I mean, those answers are fine and all, but they don't capture the true essence of the Games. Control. That is what the Hunger Games were supposed to be. Control of the Districts under the Capitol. Tributes controlling other tributes. It's beautiful, really."

"Sir, I understand your point," he says. "But with all due respect, why aren't you discussing this with the Head Gamemaker?"

"Ah, Lilywater," I say, smiling fondly. "Wonderful person, she is. The reason I'm not talking to her about this is because she doesn't have quite your taste. She thinks that the Games are all about the arena and the mutts and the sponsors. But you know as well as I do that those things don't matter much at all. It's the principle, Leporis. Without that, we wouldn't have the foundation for the Games in the first place."

"I think I understand," he says, hesitantly. "But what do I have to do with any of this?"

"Well, I've talked to Lilywater, and we've agreed that it might be a good experience to let you design the arena this year, and everything that goes with it. The mutts, possible sponsors, traps, and of course, the arena itself."

"The Head Gamemaker was okay with this?" he asks, incredulously.

"She came around, after some convincing, that is," I respond. "I'll let you go now; you've got a lot of work to do in the next six months."

I reach for a manila envelope from under my desk and extend it over the table to him.

"Everyone you may need to contact is in here, along with their contact information," I say.

Gingerly, he takes the packet and stands.

"I won't let you down, Mr. President," he says, extending his hand to shake. I grasp it with my own and meet his eye.

"You better not," I say. "Or it'll be your job."

* * *

 **A/N: Oh my God guys, I'm so excited. I'm sorry, I just couldn't wait any longer.**

 **As you can probably guess, because I'm me, this is an SYOT. The only thing that makes this different from my last one is that there will be no sponsor system. Tributes will still get gifts, but they won't be sent from you.**

 **That said, the form is on my profile, along with the tributes that I've _already gotten!_** **I can't wait to see what you guys come up with.**

 **-Make the day special!**


	2. Prologue II

_As long as greed is stronger than compassion, there will always be suffering.  
-_Rusty Eric

* * *

168 Elmgrove Lane, April 16th, 6:00 pm

 **Dominique Juniper Harrison (10) POV**

 **Capitol Citizen**

My older sister Zenobia has the prettiest things. She's at her friend Irika's house right now, so she's not home to tell me to stay out of her room, which is good, because I love everything she keeps in here. Mom is out of town for the weekend, so I'm home alone, but sometimes without Mom knowing, I like to come up to Zenobia's room and just look at all the shining jewelry, colorful scarves and flowers and sleek makeup compacts. Sometimes I'll take something. Something little that won't be missed. I keep it all in a box in the back of my closet. Mom doesn't buy me the nice things Zenobia has. She says I'm just a kid, and that I wouldn't be interested in any of that. So she buys me little plastic toys and scratchy clothes.

I hear the front door slam shut, and I realize that Zenobia's home. Quickly, I swipe a bottle of glittery gold nail polish and drop it in the pocket of my sweatshirt. I know that I won't have time to make an escape, so thinking quickly, I drop to the ground on my stomach and begin looking under her bed. The nail polish is digging into my side, and I can't get into a position where it doesn't hurt, so I just live with it. My sister runs into her room and throws her black and silver bag on her bed.

"Junebug, why are you in my room?" she asks.

"I can't find my gold headband," I lie. "Did you take it?"

"No, sorry," she says. "Want me to give you a makeover? I'm hanging out with some friends, and Ashleen and Swan really wanted to see you."

"Yeah!" I exclaim, my eyes lit up. She motions for me to sit on a little puff chair next to her in front of her makeup table. We convinced Mom a few weeks ago to let me dye my hair bright red, since Zenobia started dying hers when she was 9, a year younger than me. She takes out a curling iron and curls my hair. My curled red hair contrasts with her straight pink and blonde hair, which I like. She doesn't put much makeup on me. She says it's because I'm still little and I don't need it. Whatever. She finishes it with a little fake nose ring and paints my nails light pink.

"Thanks, Zenobia," I say, reaching over to hug her.

"Do you have something in your pocket?" she asks, feeling the lump.

"Yeah, just a lollipop," I say. "I'll be in my room."

I escape from Zenobia's room and go to my own. I shut the door and lock it, so that I won't get caught. I open up my closet and pull out a box that used to have a pair of Mom's pretty blue heels. It's already almost full with all different makeup, nail polish, jewelry and change purses, so I drop the gold polish in and shove it back in there, as far back as it will go, and I drape my winter coat over it. From the closet, I grab a light blue dress and silver flats and pull them on, because I want to look good for Zenobia's friends. The front door opens again, and I hear a chorus of voices.

"Hey, Zenobia!"

"Where's Dominique?"

"I need lip gloss!"

About an hour after they all came, I walk out of my room casually and go down the stairs to see Zenobia sitting in the living room with her friends grinning. There's a few random wine coolers and assorted bottles and cans of beer strewn on the coffee table, and a guy- I think his name is Baron- has a joint between his lips.

"Hi Dominique," Ashleen slurs. She's already at least a little drunk.

"Hi Ash," I say, before turning my attention to my sister. "Does Mom know you're drinking?"

"No, and you're not gonna tell her," she says, grinning.

"Why shouldn't I?" I ask, putting my hands on my hips.

"Because..." she hesitates.

"We can share," Baron says, extending his joint. "Want a hit?"

"Shit, Baron, she's 10," Swan says.

"Whatever," I say, heading back upstairs. "Try to quiet down, I'm trying to do homework."

Once I get back up to my room, I smile to myself. I'm not exactly planning on telling my mom what Zenobia and her friends were doing, but it's nice to know I have something if she ever irritates me.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, submissions are closed. I'll put up the full list of tributes after the next prologue, which is like half written.**

 **Thoughts on Dominique?**

 **-Make the day special!**


	3. Prologue III

_In order to survive in a world of instinct, its alternative is to hunt or being hunted._  
 _Reject this, then be prepared to be hunted._  
-Toba Beta

* * *

The Wilds, June 15th, 10:00 am

 **Abernella Dressel (13) POV**

 **Rebel**

A year ago, almost to the day, the rebellion was talked about on national television. When Jaclyn Hide's family was sent to prison and a community home, I fled, trying to avoid capture myself. Out of everyone in Jaclyn's family- her parents and her younger sister- I was the most active in the rebellion and the most vocal about my beliefs. When Jaclyn made it to the final 8 in the Games last year, her family was promised immunity if she won. Once she made it to the final 3, which I knew of from a message from rebellion leaders, I was hopeful that she would get to the Victor's throne. However, the final three was as far as she got, when she was killed by the girl from District 4, who was then killed by the boy from 10 who won.

Since then, I've been on the run, trying to make my way to one of Alicia's hideaways outside District 5. I didn't expect the trek from District 8 to District 5 to take very long, but it's hard to do without a map. Nobody really has a map outside the Capitol, so I've been going off of little notes from rebellion leaders; Nathan Gepler, Dylan Ross, even Alicia herself, the Victor of the 225th Hunger Games.

Since the Reapings are tomorrow, I received a note from Alicia a week ago to go into the closest District and sneak into the Mayor's house. All of the Reaped tributes are picked in advance, and the Capitol is in touch with the training centers in Districts 1, 2 and 4 to see who will volunteer. Using this information taken from the Capitol, the rebellion has come up with a list of tributes that's guaranteed to be accurate, assuming no one from an outer District volunteers. In the refrigerator under a bottle of milk will be the list of tributes, so I won't seem completely clueless if I'm ever in the position where I should watch the Games.

After a few hours of aimlessly looking for a District fence, I come across one. The fence isn't completely charged, but I don't want to take any chances. What if it randomly turns on while I'm climbing it? I'd be dead or maimed in a second. I scoot along the perimeter of the fence until I see a brown blanket covered in leaves. I gently move the blanket, keeping all the leaves on it and hop into the hole, pulling the blanket back over my head.

The hole, unsurprisingly, turns out to be a tunnel of only a few feet. When I peek out the other side, I find myself just outside the electric fence and into the District. Looking around, I try to make a game plan before completely revealing myself. They've had my pictures up on TV for a year, so surely if anyone saw me, they'd report me for the money. Maybe not in District 8, where people know me, but in District whatever-this-is, people wouldn't hesitate to get the cash prize.

I look down at myself, comparing what I look like now to what I looked like when I left a year ago. My hair is longer, reaching almost my elbows. Following this, I'm sure my roots look lovely. It was my idea to dye my hair fire engine red, but I didn't think I'd ever be in the position where I'd have to go a year without re-dying it. The knife in my combat boot is beginning to rust, after all the times I've had to wash it in a stream after use. Currently, I'm wearing black shorts and a black T-shirt, but I change into the black jeans and sweater I packed, wrapping a scarf around my telltale hair. It's sweltering, but I'm safe.

Peeking over the hole again, I try to decide which District I'm in. There's no lush vegetation or flowers anywhere, so that completely rules out District 7, 9 and 11. There's no visible large body of water, so I'm pretty sure it's not District 4. It's not nice enough to be District 1 or 2, yet way too nice to be 12. I know it isn't 8 from living there, and the way Alicia described District 5 is nothing like this. The only Districts left it could be are 3, 6 and 10. Upon further investigation, I don't see any barns or factories, so I'll go with my gut and say this is District 6.

A non-rebelling District.

My best course of action is to try to blend in, so when I'm sure nobody's looking, I crawl out of the hole and into the District. I look around, trying to see if someone's already noticed me, if someone's already suspicious. Everybody's minding their own business, not bothering to look my way. It looks like this section of the woods is near the more affluent end of town, because everyone that's milling around over here has clean clothes and shiny, clean hair.

I know I'll never find the Mayor's house on my own, so I try to find the best person to enlist the help of. After looking around at all the people here, I decide on a girl not much older than I am. She has long, straight, dark hair, and her brown eyes have an exotic slant to them. Her pale blue dress is ironed neatly, and the bow at the back was tied perfectly. She was talking to two girls and two boys, who all look about as well off as she is.

I go up to her, taking deep breaths. Before they notice me, I duck behind a tree and exchange my jeans for a skirt and stuff the scarf back in my bag. I brush out my hair and fluff it up a little. I pinch my cheeks a little, bringing some color to my face. Confidently, I walk over to them and tap the girl on the shoulder. She whips around, looking into my eyes with a smile on her face.

"Hi," she says, perkily. "Can I help you?"

"I'm a little lost," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Would you mind telling me how to get to the Mayor's house?"

She pauses for a beat, and then smiles again.

"You must be the President's niece," she says, brightly. "Yeah, I'll walk you there."

She links her arm through mine, and we begin walking into town. She looks down at me, a glint in her eye.

"You're Dominique, right?" she asks. "The Mayor said President Baxwell had a niece coming in from the Capitol with really bright red hair. Where's your sister?"

"M-my sister?" I ask. "Um... She said she'd meet me there."

"Oh, cool," she says. "I'm Alayne."

After about a half hour of walking and mindless small talk, we reach the Mayor's house. I turn the nob and push the door open.

"Want me to come in with you?" she asks.

"Uh... Sure," I say.

I roam around the first floor with Alayne until we come across the kitchen. I open up the fridge and pull out the bottle of milk, reading the note underneath.

* * *

District 1

 _Linda Hemmings, 17._

 _Julius Helios, 18._

District 2

 _Alecto Caraway, 18._

 _Romulus Ambrosia, 18_.

District 3

 _Heather Frayman, 14_.

 _Cyno Holding, 13_.

District 4

 _Elle Maults, 18_.

 _Daniel Lanthair, 17_.

District 5

 _Clio Paxton, 17_.

 _Elijah Stork, 16._

District 6

 _Alayne Suzuki, 16_.

 _Brian Spencer, 17_.

District 7

 _Lydia Collins, 18_.

 _Edison Burt, 12._

District 8

 _Calico Jones, 16._

 _Conn Raineir, 17._

District 9

 _Oneka Scalia, 17._

 _Marsellus Hopson, 18._

District 10

 _Terry Kartcher, 18._

 _Rowan Griffey, 16._

District 11

 _Adelaide Simon, 15._

 _Coy Levionne, 12._

District 12

 _Tessa Ray, 15._

 _Adrian Jr. Burrow, 15._

* * *

I look up at Alayne from under my eyelashes, quizzically.

"What did you say your name was?" I ask her.

"Alayne Suzuki," she responds. "Why?"

"Just wondering," I say, looking at her name on the list. "Um... Good luck at the Reaping tomorrow."

"And may the odds be ever in your favor," she says, grinning.

* * *

 **Possible reasons your tribute didn't make it in:**

 **\- I cannot stress this strongly enough: I loved most of the submissions. The most likely reason your tribute wasn't accepted was because they didn't mesh well with the other tributes, or there simply wasn't room for them.**

 **\- Your tribute was in another story. Alternatively, a tribute incredibly similar to yours was in another story, and was still made by you.**

 **\- Your tribute was too similar to another that was submitted. It would be boring to have 2 similar tributes in the same story, not to mention hard to keep track of.**

 **\- Your tribute was a Mary-Sue/Gary-Stu.**

 **\- You didn't fill out the whole form.**

 **\- You submitted past the deadline.**

 **I'm very sorry if your tribute didn't make it in! I received over 70 tributes, and it was hard to pick just 24.**

 **Spot the characters from the prequel (if you read it).**

 **-Make the day special!**


	4. District 1 Reaping

_Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are._  
-Chinese Proverb

* * *

The Hemmings Residence, June 16th, 11:00 am

 **Linda Hemmings (17) POV**

 **District 1 female**

I'm sitting on my bed, across from my best friend, Aira, both of us shuffling around different shades of nail polish. The clock reads 11 am, so the Reaping is in 3 hours. Plenty of time to get ready and have some fun before I volunteer. I eventually decide to do my nails in alternating colors; light blue and silver, while Aira just chooses black. She's wearing torn leather pants and a red sweat shirt, but since I have to make a good impression, I pulled out a light weight blue dress from the back of my closet. The only other time I've ever worn it was at my uncle's wedding, because I'm not exactly a dress person. For now, though, I just wear a bright green tank top and black capri leggings.

Once we have our nails painted, we leave my house and enter the Square, hoping to do a bit of people watching before the Reaping starts. We walk through slowly, trying to look as inconspicuous as we can, in order to avoid suspicion. We look around, trying to pick the best possible person for what we have planned, and Aira finds him. Leaning against the side of a building with headphones in his ears and a roll hanging from his fingers- it's either a cigarette or a joint, we're too far away to tell- stands Garnet Palace, the douchiest guy that goes to the other school in the District. I only know him because my cousin Angela goes to school with him, and he once tried to get into her pants, so he has no idea who we are.

"You wanna lead this one, or me?" Aira asks. I pause for a beat, then smile.

"Go for it," I say.

Side by side, falling into the same rhythm of steps, we approach him, feet clacking on the sidewalk.

"Hey!" Aira calls.

He pulls his headphone out of his ear, and as we walk closer to him, I take a breath of whatever it is he's smoking. I flinch at the skunky smell: cheap pot. I nearly writhe in disgust. If he wants to blow his money on drugs, he might as well spend his money on the better grade stuff, not old weed you'd buy from a homeless middle aged man in an alley.

"Wha-" Garnet looks startled. "Do I know you?"

"No, but we thought you were really cute?" Aira says, making it sound more like a question. She twirls a strand of honey blonde hair around he finger and bites her lip slightly. "We were wondering if you wanted to play a game?"

I notice him not so subtly check both of us out, smirking a little bit. It doesn't really surprise me; objectively, Aira and I are pretty decent looking, more so her than I, but the point stands.

"What kind of game, babe?" he asks, taking the joint out of his mouth. I feel the strong urge to grab it and throw it, but I repress it, masking it with a cute smile.

"Well, my name's Cassandra," Aira says. "This is my friend, Melena." I offer a quick wave and a falsely shy giggle. "Basically, she's gonna flip a coin. If we win, Melena gets to slap you across the face. But if you win, you get to kiss both of us. Deal?"

"Definitely," he says, with a crooked grin.

"Heads we win, tails you lose?" I suggest. Aira suppresses a giggle, but Garnet doesn't notice. This kid's getting slapped no matter what.

"Deal," he says.

I pull a coin from the pocket of my black jacket and flip it clumsily. It lands on the pavement tail side up.

"Tails, you lose!" Aira says, feigning an apology.

"Wait, hang on a sec," he says.

"Sorry!" I trill.

I pull my hand back and slap him with all the strength I can muster. He stumbles backwards, and I can already see the red mark on his cheek.

"I had to because Angela wouldn't," I tell him. "Take your joint and go be a dick somewhere else."

He glares at us both, wrinkling his face into a sneer. He spits on the ground near our feet and storms off, flicking his joint over his shoulder at us.

"I think over all that's a success," Aira says. "I mean, it took a while, but success."

"Shit!" I say. "What time is it?"

"About 12:30," she says, glancing at her watch. "Why?"

"I promised Julius I'd meet him to train before the Reaping," I say. "I gotta go!"

"Some last minute training with your District partner?" she asks, raising her eyebrows and smirking. "Think he'll try anything?"

I give her an incredulous look, and say my next words slowly, as if she's a child first learning how to speak.

"You know he's gay, right?" I say.

"What?!" she screeches. "Nuh-uh. That boy is too hot to be gay, he's not allowed."

"He has a boyfriend!" I protest. "Plutus something?"

"Tell me Plutus Luxe isn't gay," she says, looking crestfallen. "He was my safety net!"

"Well, they're both gay," I say. "I need to go now, have you even seen Julius angry?"

"Is it hot?" she asks, smirking deviously.

"Doesn't matter," I say. I turn on my heel and jog to the training academy, shouting a quick goodbye over my shoulder.

* * *

The Training Academy, June 16th, 12:00 pm

 **Julius Helios (18) POV**

 **District 1 male**

I don't know why eighteen-year-olds continue to train for the Games after other volunteers have been chosen. You know that you're not going to be in the Games, so why continue to prepare for them? All of the other 18-year-olds here know that they will never be in the Games, since this is their last year of eligibility, and the Academy chose me and Linda Hemmings, a pretty 17-year-old to volunteer. It seems like a waste of time, especially if you just think of the training center as a place to hang out. People's parents have to pay a tuition for this, and they're wasting it.

Linda and I agreed to do some last minute training together, but she's nowhere to be seen, so I decide to train by myself. I grab a few knives off the rack near the dummies, and hold them all in my left hand so I can throw with my right. I wind up to toss the first knife from 20 yards away. Just as I'm about to release it from my grasp, a shout comes from across the room.

"Faggot!" the voice shouts.

Distracted, I throw the knife clumsily, and it lands on the ground in front of the dummy, where it would usually hit the center of the heart. I whirl around, trying to find the face that matches the voice. Before I figure it out, Linda steps out from a rack of swords, grabbing Lucian Platinum by his collar, pinning him to the wall, reaching her arm up against his throat. Linda's only 5'5", and Lucian's a good 6'4", so seeing her overtake him is sort of hysterical. While this is happening, I run over, in the unlikely event that she'll need any help.

"What'd you call him?" she asks, furious.

"I-" he murmers something unintelligible, and Linda shoves her arm harder against his windpipe. Se glares at him, and for a few seconds, I think she's going to punch him, or worse, but she just releases her grip on him and practically throws him across the room.

"Get out," she spits. "Just leave."

Lucian opens his mouth again, probably to say something homophobic about me, or, knowing him, a dumb blonde joke about Linda. But she cut him off before he can say anything stupid.

"I already slapped a bitch today," she says, looking him dead in the eye. "Do you want me to do it again?"

He gives a short, high pitched mimic of what she just said before storming out with his friends. Once they're gone, Linda grabs a knife out of my hand and chucks it blindly at a dummy, hitting it square in the chest.

"That, my dear, is why they picked you to volunteer," I say, laughing.

For about an hour, we practice with each other, brushing up on our weapon skills. It works, because we're really the only ones good enough for each other to have a challenge. We begin with swords, fighting with each other, making sure not to actually injure the other. After a while, we call it a match, because neither of us is pulling ahead. After swords, we do archery for a little while, which we both hate. We try to teach each other how to hold a bow properly, just in case a situation arises in which we'd need to use one. It's hopeless. Lastly, we move onto spiked clubs. Linda swings wildly with no real strategy, but I make a few calculated moves, "killing" my dummy faster.

Just as we're working up a sweat, the bells for the Reaping go off, meaning we have a half hour to get to the Square. It's only a ten minute walk, but Linda starts panicking.

"My dress is at home!" she says, frantically. "And my hair's a mess..."

"Wanna just grab clothes from the back room?" I ask.

"Sure," she says, looking slightly disappointed.

We go to the back room where the trainers keep extra Reaping clothes in case of an emergency like this. I push open the door and grab the first things I see in my size; a red polo shirt and tan pants. Good enough. Linda mulls over her options for a minute before deciding on a blue dress the same color of her nails, and a white jacket and shoes. She just turns around to change, and I look away.

Once we're both changed, we walk to the Square together. As we're walking, we run into a few of her friends as well as Plutus. Plutus greets me with a kiss, then laces his fingers through mine. Linda splits off with her friends, and gives me a small wave.

"See you on the train!" I call.

"Later!"

"You're really volunteering, then?" Plutus asks, meeting my eye.

"I have to," I say. "The Academy picked me, I can't let them down."

"Who's the backup volunteer?" he asks.

"Lucian," I sneer.

We approach the Capitol woman behind the desk, and she draws a sample of our blood. Afterward, we head off to the 18-year-old section.

"Alright, I changed my mind," he says. "You have to volunteer, and do better than he ever would."

"That was the plan," I assure him.

A few minutes after we get to the section, our escort, Livian Keene mounts the stage, her bright orange hair contrasting wildly with her ice blue eyes.

"Good afternoon, District 1!" she calls into the microphone. "Shall we start with the women?"

She crosses over to the girls' Reaping bowl and grabs a slip from the very top.

"This year's female tribute is Crystalline Flame!"

Following the announcement, a blonde girl from the 15-year-old section steps out onto the stage.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Livian asks.

"I volunteer as tribute!" Linda calls. She makes her way up to the stage, taking Crystalline's place.

"What's your name?" Livian asks, warming right up to her.

"Linda Hemmings."

"And now, for the men!" Livian says, smiling. "Our male tribute is Lucian Silver!"

Lucian walks up to the stage, stepping on my toes as he passes from the 17-year-old section. I elbow him in the side, and as he stumbles, I step out of my section and punch him in the gut.

"I volunteer!" I shout. I walk calmly up to the stage, and I see Livian eyeing me.

"What's your name, handsome?" she asks, batting her eyelashes.

"Julius Helios," I say, before directing my attention to her. "And before you get any ideas, I should tell you that I'm gay."

"We'll see about that," she whispers. "Ladies and gentlemen, District 1's tributes for the 227th Hunger Games: Linda Hemmings and Julius Helios! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Linda Hemmings (17) POV**

 **District 1 female**

The first people to come visit me in the Justice Building are my parents and my younger brother Jacob. I think in most Districts, Jacob wouldn't really understand my volunteering, but since we're a Career District, 10-year-olds know all there is to know about the Games. 10 is also usually when people start training, though I started when I was 8, and Julius started at 7.

"Linda, you need to win," Jacob says. "Or at least try your best."

"Oh, and why is that?" I ask, smiling down at him.

"I bet Parker that Julius would die before you, and if I lose, I have to give him $20," he explains. "But the deal's off if one of you kills the other."

"Well, I'll try my best," I say, laughing and messing up his hair. "I don't want you losing $20."

"You really will try to win, won't you?" Dad asks, a worried look on his face.

"Obviously," I say, giving him a warm smile.

"Good," Mom says. "We don't want to lose our daughter."

"Do you have a token?" Dad asks.

"No," I say, sadly. "I was gonna grab my anklet before the Reaping, but I lost track of time training with Julius."

"Good thing I grabbed it," Jacob says, pulling it out of his pocket. I take it out of his hands, inspecting it.

"You went in my room?" I demand.

"Sorry," he says.

Peacekeepers come in to take them out, and after they leave, Aira and our other friends, Brianna and Christine come in. For the duration of their time with me, we just gossip nonsensically, and they wish me luck before they're taken out.

I wait eagerly for everyone visiting Julius to leave so we can get on the train and be on our way to the Capitol.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Julius Helios (18) POV**

 **District 1 male**

My first visitor isn't my family or friends, as I expected, or even one of the trainers from the academy. It's Lucian.

"You fucking dick!" he shouts, swinging his fist madly.

I grab his wrist when it's inches from my face and pin his arm behind his back, forcing him to the ground.

"Something to say?" I ask him, inches from his face.

"You're a fag, and your District partner's a bitch," he says. "When you both die in the arena, I'm volunteering to show everyone what a real man looks like."

"So you're bringing a friend?" I ask. "Security!"

A Peacekeeper rushes in, grabbing Lucian by the scruff of his neck like a kitten, and he's soon replaced with my parents and my 15-year-old sister, Stella.

"I'm proud of you, Julius," my father says, clapping me on the back. "You're finally doing something worthwhile."

"Dexter, that's rude," my mother cuts in. "Not that we're not always proud of you, dear. It's just that this was such a big step for you."

"I think what Mom and Dad are tryingto say is that they're proud of you for volunteering, but they'd still be proud if you hadn't," Stella interjects. "Is that about right?"

"Exactly," says Mom.

"I don't know about all that," Dad says. "And did you have to announce your issue to everyone in Panem?"

"Me being gay isn't an _issue_ ," I stress. "Besides, a 30-something-year-old was hitting on me. What was I supposed to do?"

"Take it like a man!" Dad yells.

"I have a boyfriend!" I yell back.

After a few seconds of staring, he storms out of the room, leaving me with Mom and Stella.

"He's known for three years," I say. "I don't know why this is still so hard for him."

"Your dad's just old fashioned," Mom says. "He'll come around."

When I was 10, a girl in my class at school told me she liked me. For three years, our relationship grew from fake 5th grade puppy love to an actual relationship. However, a few months before I turned 14, I realized I didn't like her like that anymore, and neither did she. We broke up, and at 15, she was the first person I came out to. She helped me figure out how to tell my family, and to this day, Sterling Springs is my best friend in the world.

Two Peacekeepers come into the room, and tell my mom and sister that they have to leave. They go sadly, but without hesitation, not wanting a problem.

"Come home soon!" Stella calls over her shoulder.

"I will!" I yell after her.

After my family leaves, Plutus and Sterling come in. Steling gets to me first, throwing her arms around me and holding on tightly.

"This is real," she says when she pulls away. "You volunteered. You're actually going into the Games."

"You're sure you're okay with this?" Plutus asks.

"Positive," I assure him, giving him a quick kiss. "I've been waiting years to do this, I couldn't be happier."

"Well as long as you're happy, I'm happy," he says, hugging me even tighter than Sterling.

For the rest of their time visiting, we just talk about nonsense, not bothering with the Games themselves. This might be the last time I see them, and I don't want to waste it on the events of the next few weeks. I don't want anything to be any different than it has been for the last 3 years.

Before they're taken out, Plutus searches his pocket for something to give me as a token, but all he comes up with is a tan rubber band. He apologizes, but I slide it up my wrist and give him one last kiss.

"It's perfect," I say. "Thank you."

They're escorted out, and pretty soon, Livian and Linda come to my room, and we all board the train.

* * *

 **Thanks so much to DobbyTheFreeElf1290 for Linda and Jms2 for Julius!**

 **Now that Capitol's Picks is finished, expect more frequent updates here. After all, we're only just getting started.**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Linda or Julius?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	5. District 2 Reaping

_Quiet people have the loudest minds._  
-Stephen Hawking

* * *

Studio 4B, June 16th, 11:00 am

 **Christopher Price (17) POV**

 **District 2 male**

Why in the living hell did I agree to this? Okay, maybe because I can't say no to my mom, but damn, I wish I could. When Mom asked me to follow her to her photo shoot today, I was expecting to just watch as they took awkward staged pictures of her. I've gotten used to watching them take pictures of her. Never in a million years did I think I'd be asked to be in any of them.

"Christopher, why don't you get in some of the pictures?" asks the photographer. "You're dressed nicely for the Reaping anyway."

I look up from the book I'm reading for school, shocked. I can't be in these pictures. What if my friends saw, or people from training? I'd be ruined.

"I can't, actually," I say, searching my mind for an excuse. "I have to... I have to, um..."

"He has to visit his girlfriend before the Reaping," my mom cuts in. She knows how embarrassing it would be for me. She's always said that just because she's a model, she doesn't want me to feel pressured into following her footsteps into a similar field, which is why it's my main goal to win the Hunger Games or die trying. Both of which are incredibly possible. I came in second place for the competition to volunteer, but the head trainer wants me to volunteer next year. I haven't told anyone about it.

"Right!" I say, grabbing my backpack. "I have to go do that. Thanks for offering, though."

"Tell Rachel I said hi!" Mom calls after me as I leave.

As I'm walking out of my mom's section of the studio, I run into my dad and my stepmom, That Bitch. Once upon a time, when my parents were still together, I know That Bitch's name, because her and my mom were friends, but since my dad ran off with her years ago, leaving my mom and I alone, I've since forgotten. He's honestly such an ass; he's only a proper father when it's convenient for him to be, like when my mom's photo shoots are more successful than That Bitch. When I see them, I look away, trying my hardest to avoid eye contact, but they see me.

"Topher!"

I practically bolt from the building and run down the street before slowing down and heading in the exact opposite direction that I was just running in to Rachel's house. The Reaping isn't for almost three hours, so we'll probably go and hang out with other friends while we're waiting. I'm bummed that I can't volunteer until next year, but at least it leaves me with another year of training to help get better prepared for the Games.

Rachel doesn't live too far away from my mom's studio, so I'm at her house pretty soon. As I'm walking up to her door, she glances out her living room window and opens up the door, standing in the doorway.

"Hey, what's up?" she asks, leaning in for a quick kiss.

"I was just at the studio with my mom," I explain. "They wanted to take pictures of me and her together, but I said I had other things to do. Besides, I wanted to see you before the Reaping."

She smiles up at me, and I take her hand, walking away from her house.

"What do you wanna do?" she asks.

"I think Lyell and Courtney wanted to hang out," I say.

She gives a sharp sigh through her nose, and I wince too.

"I know," I say. "I don't like Courtney either, but she's dating Lyell, and we have to respect that. Besides, We know they're not gonna last."

"I guess," she says. "She's just such an idiot."

After about 10 minutes, we make it to Lyell's house, and he's sitting in his front yard with Courtney. Lyell is my and Rachel's best friend, but a few weeks ago, he started dating a girl from training, Courtney 's pretty, which is most likely why Lyell went after her, but she's also incredibly naïve and stupid. Not that he would take advantage of her, but she's said that people have in the past. It makes me feel sort of bad for her, but something about her just rubs me the wrong way.

Lyell, however, has been my best friend ever since I can remember. He's only a few months older than me, but he just turned 18. We became friends when we both started training at the age of 8 and were paired up as training partners. We pretty much did everything together up until recently when we got girlfriends, but we still do spend a lot of time together.

"Hey, guys!" Lyell calls. "What's up?"

"Not much," Rachel says, as we sit down in the grass with them. "Any plans for after the Reaping?"

"No," Courtney says, tossing her hair. "It's honestly such a waste of time. If I'm not volunteering, I don't understand why I have to go."

"What if you're Reaped and no one volunteers?" I ask. "And what about the outer Districts?"

"I don't get why they're not all volunteering either," she says, crossing her arms. "Everyone should want to be in the Games. I'd love to, but I wasn't picked to volunteer."

"At least me and Topher have one more year left," Rachel says. "Maybe we'll get picked."

"Actually, Tremor asked me to volunteer next year," I say, sheepishly. Tremor is the head trainer at the Academy; he's the one that chooses the volunteers.

"Topher, that's great!" Rachel exclaims.

"What did you say?" Lyell asks.

"I told him I'd do it," I say, grinning ear to ear. "I'm just really anxious; I can't believe I have to wait a whole year."

"So don't," Courtney says, simply. "Just volunteer this year. What could go wrong?"

"I mean..." I trail off. "It could work."

"Think it through," Rachel says, pleading with her eyes. "Tremor wants you to volunteer next year for a reason."

"She's right," Lyell says. "You should just take the next year to brush up on your skills."

"I guess," I say. "You're probably right."

But inside, I'm already planning exactly how I'm going to step up to the stage.

* * *

The Steele Tavern, June 16th, 1:00 pm

 **Alecto Caraway (18) POV**

 **District 2 female**

I down the rest of the drink Mia slid in front of me and grin triumphantly, flashing a mouthful of straight white teeth. Bastien claps me on the back, and I give him another large, sarcastic smile.

"Another?" Mia asks, raising a bottle.

I shake my head slowly, raising my hand and crinkling my nose. The one drink I had was more than what I wanted coming in; I want to have a clear head for the Reaping so I can volunteer somewhat gracefully. The final battle of the girls' bracket to decide on the volunteer was intense. The girl I had to fight in the final two was last year's backup volunteer, but her sister- who wasn't even being considered for the Games- beat everyone up to the stage, but placed sixth in actual Games, being killed by the Victor; some underdog from 10. Jenna Kentwell was out for blood, and I beat her by the skin of my teeth, mostly due to the extra help I got from my mother at home.

"Alecto, it's cause for celebration!" Daryl exclaims. "This may be the last drink we'll all have together."

My lips curl up into a smile, and I can't help the laugh that escapes. "Please."

Mia tops off Bastien and Daryl's glasses, and takes mine away, dropping it in a sink in the back of the bar, collecting tips as she goes. Two years ago, Mia decided that training for the Games was too much for her- she just couldn't stomach the thought of killing people for fun. She dropped out of training much to the dismay of her parents, and started tending bars here at The Steele. It's kind of a lame bar, but she gives us free drinks.

Bastien is basically the opposite of his cousin. He's been training since the age of 8; same as me, and he was really disappointed when I was picked to volunteer and he wasn't. He got out in the semifinals, beaten out by Topher Price, who was then beat by Romulus Ambrosia, who's volunteering alongside me. Sad as he is that he'll never be in the Games, Bastien _is_ excited for me. Personally, I'd rather have gone into the arena with Topher or Bastien than Romulus. Bastien because we're already friends, and we know how to work together. Topher simply because he's attractive, and while I haven't fallen for him, the general female population of District 2 has, so it wouldn't surprise me if rich Capitolites decided to sponsor him based solely on his appearance.

Mia comes back with Bastien and Daryl's drinks, and as they grin up at her, taking the first sips of their second drinks, I flash back to the last time we were all together like this; happily drinking without a care in the world. It was during the party we threw for Daryl when he was accepted into the Peacekeepers. I had a few shots too many that night, and though I don't remember anything past midnight, Mia told me later that I was flirting with every boy in the tavern, and I kept throwing my arms around Daryl, telling him over and over again how proud I was of him. My voice- already cringe-worthy with a stutter- was made almost incoherently slurred thanks to the amount of alcohol in my system.

It was probably the most I ever spoke since the accident when I was 5 that permanently changed my speech patterns. I hit my head on a heavy slamming door, giving me a horrendous stutter that no amount of speech therapy could fix. But I coped. When I wasn't training at the District's academy or going to school, I stayed home with my mom, who taught me more about weapons and survival than the academy ever did, giving me the edge that I needed to beat Jenna. She taught the 12-14 year olds in the academy, so I had no qualms about her giving me extra help. My dad, when he wasn't fulfilling his Peacekeeping duties taught me various written codes so I wouldn't have to strain to speak. My friends learned the codes alongside me, especially Daryl, but I was never afraid to speak around my parents, even with a stutter.

As Daryl and Bastien finish their drinks, the bells for the Reaping go off, signalling that we should head to the Square. Mia tells them to just leave their glasses on the bar, and she takes off her apron, revealing torn jeans and a baggy T-shirt. I envy her; she's got no one to impress, while I'm stuck in the only formal piece of clothing I own. The dress hit my knees, with a gray chiffon skirt and a black lace top. My top priority once I got on the train would be to change.

The four of us leave the Steele as a group. On the way, we run into my dad, quite literally. As I pass him, he whispers a piece of advice.

"Be confident when you volunteer. First impressions count."

I give him a curt nod and a semi-smile, and we set back off. Once we reach the Square, Mia, Bastien and I go to the sections for the 18-year-olds, while Daryl goes to stand with the other spectators. At 19, his last Reaping was last year. We don't wait around long before Sasha Balyregan, our escort of 8 years, mounts the stage.

"Good afternoon, District 2, and welcome to the Reaping for the 227th Hunger Games," she says, speaking clearly into the microphone. "I don't see a problem with starting with the girls, so ladies first!"

Sasha reaches a long-nailed hand into the female's Reaping bowl and pulls out a slip of paper. She unravels it, then reads the name into the microphone.

"Colleen Glass! Do we have any volunteers?"

Most of the older kids of Reaping age shift their eyes in my general direction, and I take a deep breath, willing my voice to come out steady and clear.

"I volunteer!"

Elated, I practically skip up to the stage, taking my place next to Sasha, smiling at the camera that pans over to me.

"What's your name, young lady?" Sasha asks.

"Alecto Caraway," I respond promptly.

"Pleasure to meet you, Alecto," she says. I smile slightly, and nod. She crosses over to the males' bowl, and grabs another slip. "Unless someone volunteers, the male tribute this year will be Octavian Whip!"

Before Romulus has a chance to volunteer, Topher bolts from the 17-year-old section. What is going on. This is not how this was supposed to happen. Not that I'm mad, but this is wrong.

"I volunteer!" he shouts, before Romulus- or anyone else, for that matter- can object. "I volunteer as tribute!"

He makes his way up to the stage, and I give him a withering glare. It shows on his face that he sees it, and he averts his eyes from me.

"And what's your name?" Sasha asks him, once he's taken his place.

"Christopher Price," he says, smiling first at Sasha, then the audience, and finally the cameras.

"Nice to meet you, Chris," Sasha says. "May I call you Chris?"

"Actually, I prefer Topher," he says, smiling apologetically.

"Ladies and gentlemen of District 2, your tributes for the 227th Hunger Games!" Sasha proclaims, backing up for us to shake hands. "Alecto Caraway and Topher Price. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Christopher Price (17) POV**

 **District 2 male**

Unsurprisingly, the first person in to visit me after the Reaping is the Head Trainer.

"What the fuck, Topher?" Tremor booms. "You were set to volunteer next year! You couldn't have just let Romulus have his fun?"

"Romulus can volunteer next year," I say.

"He won't be eligible next year!" he yells.

"Oh," I say, shrugging. "Oops."

"If you come back from the Games, I'm gonna kick your ass," he says, taking on a more lighthearted tone. "But I have a lot of faith in you. Try your best, alright?"

"Of course," I say. Before I know it, Termor is escorted out, and my first visitor is gone. My mother replaces him, and he immediately wraps her arms around me, hugging me tighter than she ever has before. We stay like that for a long time, before she finally pulls away.

"Topher, why?" she asks, looking up to meet my eye. "Why did you have to volunteer?"

"Tremor wanted me to volunteer next year, I was just speeding up the process," I tell her. "Besides, I need the money."

"No you don't!" she objects. "We have plenty of-"

"I'm not taking your money," I assure her. "I need a lot for what I want to do, and I want all of it to be from me."

"What's your plan?" she asks, wearily.

I consider not telling her. After all, I had originally wanted it to be a surprise revealed at the pre-Games interviews. But if there's anyone that I can trust not to tell anyone, it's my mom.

"I want to have the money to buy Rachel a ring," I say, watching as a grin spreads across her face. "I love her, mom. I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

She bursts into happy tears, smiling and crying and hugging me all at once. While she's in a fit of hysteria, I beg her over and over again not to tell Rachel, and she promises she won't. Immediately after, a Peacekeeper takes her out, replacing her with Rachel and Lyell.

"Courtney's outside," Lyell says, before I can ask.

"What were you thinking?" Rachel asks. "Courtney's out there thinking that this is a good idea."

"Just trust me," I say. "I have a good reason."

"What's that?" Lyell asks.

"I can't tell you," I say, apologetically. "But you'll know. Just make sure you watch the interviews."

Rachel walks over to me and slings her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I kiss her on top of her head, and she looks up at me from under her eyelashes.

"I love you," she says. "Don't forget that, no matter how cute the girls from 1 and 4 are."

A Peacekeeper comes in to take them away. He leaves with Rachel first, giving me a second alone with Lyell.

"Make sure nothing happens to her while I'm gone," I instruct.

"Of course," he says. "I know how much she means to you."

In the blink of an eye, he's gone. Part of me is expecting my dad and That Bitch to come visit me. All of me is relieved that they didn't.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Alecto Caraway (18) POV**

 **District 2 female**

I'm not expecting my parents to visit me, since they both have heavy post-Reaping obligations with their jobs, so it comes as no surprise when Mia and Bastien come in to see me first.

"D-Daryl?" I ask, noting his absence.

"Peacekeepers aren't allowed in," Bastien says. "He's out there talking to your dad."

I nod slowly, trying to play back the scene in the bar; maybe the last time I'll ever see Daryl. It makes me hurt slightly inside to think I might never see him again, but it's just all the more reason for me to return home.

"Do you have a token?" Mia asks.

I nod, showing her my dog tags, engraved with the words I live by.

 _Swift as the wind_

 _Quiet as the forest_

 _Conquer like the fire_

 _Steady as the Mountain_

They nod approvingly, and we spend the rest of their visit in silence. Everything that should have been said was said earlier, and I just don't feel like talking about Topher right now. I don't feel like talking at all. Honestly, the three of us just sitting in comfortable silence is all I could ask for, only made better if Daryl was here as well. I'll probably be forced into talking on the train later, and if I'm not, there will almost definitely be the loud sounds of dishes clanking, and Topher talking with Sasha and the mentors. It's nice enjoying the last bit of quiet before all hell breaks loose.

* * *

 **Thanks a million to MidnightRaven323 for Alecto and Lulubell2495 for Topher!**

 **And yes, if you go to the tribute list in the third prologue, there's some names on the list that don't match the list on my profile. The list in the prologue is who is thought to volunteer, the list on my profile is the actual tributes.**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Alecto or Topher?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	6. District 3 Reaping

_Raise your words, not your voice. It's rain that grows flowers, not thunder._  
-Rumi

* * *

The Frayman Residence, June 16th, 9:00 am

 **Heather Frayman (14) POV**

 **District 3 female**

 _Lana runs to the Cornucopia for the supplies that will keep her allies alive. She's the fastest, the one supposed to run. She gets to the supplies, grabbing two backpacks and a sword. The boy from District 8 charges her, trying to kill her for her supplies. A deer in the headlights, Lana stabs the sword in her hand through his abdomen. She drops it immediately, standing, disbelieving, staring at the boy she's just killed. While she's frozen, the girl from District 2 fires an arrow into Lana's forehead. She falls, dead. Lana's ally, the boy from District 6 comes in, running for the supplies. The girl from 2 kills him as well._

 _Two weeks later, Avalon Xerxes has won the Games._

I wake up from my nightmare, my face wet. Whether it's tears or a cold sweat, I don't know. Today marks six years since Lana was Reaped, and if I'm being perfectly honest, I don't think I'll ever be fully over her death. She died when I was 8 and she was 16, and as my babysitter, she was always the closest thing I had to a real friend. My parents are always in another District for business- usually 5, 6 and 8- and while I'm grateful that their foreign affairs bring in more money than they would if they worked in a factory with the rest of the District, it makes me sad that I rarely see them.

Lana started watching me when I was four, so by the time I was eight and saw her more than my own parents, and I became really dependent on her. She would often spend days at a time at our house; even though she was only twelve when she started babysitting, her parents were okay with it because my parents paid her. Over four years, I developed a special bond with her, which is why is was so heartbreaking when she died so suddenly. Even worse that the girl that killed her is still alive and well, living the life that everyone dreams of.

Lana's Games were the first ones that I watched. My parents wanted me to wait until I was 10, but with my closest friend in the Games, they wanted me to be able to understand fully what was going on. In the years after her death, I had a few different sitters, but I never made as close a bond to them as I did with Lana. Besides, they only started watching over me because they wanted the money; I could tell that they couldn't care less about my safety and well being. Catching onto this, my parents decided that I was old enough to stay home alone when I was 10.

Once I calm myself down from the nightmare, I drag myself out of bed and into the kitchen for breakfast. I manage to produce a bowl of cereal, half of a grapefruit and some tea. It's the best I can do considering Mom hasn't gone shopping for food in a while. I eat in silence so thick that it's unsettling, so I lightly tap my foot on the floor of the kitchen under the table. As I'm finishing my food, my cat, Boots jumps up onto the table and makes his way towards me, nudging my arm with his nose. I reach over and scratch him between his ears, the sound of his purring filling the room.

Once I'm done eating, I drop my dishes in the sink. I open up all the windows in the kitchen to let the air circulate, since it's getting to be unbearably hot. I wash the dishes from breakfast, as well as from last night's dinner. While I'm cleaning up, I absentmindedly start singing softly; a short, slow song I picked up at school. After a little while, however, I hear a few voices outside, and I stop abruptly. It's not that I think I sounded particularly bad, but I don't like for people to hear me sing. It makes me feel really self-conscious, and hyper aware of everything I'm doing.

Once I finish the dishes, I decide to get dressed for the Reaping and take a walk. I run upstairs and grab my Reaping dress; a knee length white dress with cutouts at the bottom. I go into the bathroom by my room and take a quick shower before pulling on the dress. I dry my hair and brush it out, deciding to leave it out of its usual low pony tail. I regard myself in the mirror for a moment. My mom has always told me that my eyes are a pretty shade of brown, but I don't understand how there can be such a thing as a pretty brown. They're just brown, the exact same color as my hair. I brush on a bit of mascara and blush, then go back downstairs. I feed Boots, and while he's occupied, I slide on a pair of tan sandals, grab a small white purse and head out the door, locking it behind me.

I wander to the Square, walking slowly since I know I'm insanely early for the Reaping; I still have two hours, since I left the house at noon. I get to the Square in about 15 minutes, since the wealthier you are, the closer into town you live. It would usually take half as long, but I was walking slowly. Since I have time to kill, I wander into town, looking to see if there's anything I want to look at. I stumble across a pawn shop, and the glittering jewelry in the display case catch my eye. Slightly dazed, I push open the door, and the sound of the bells ring in my ears.

"You got money, little girl?" the man behind the counter asks.

I look up nervously. I open my mouth to try to form a response, but I end up just nodding, holding up my bag. He lets out a small huff of disapproval; most shop owners don't like kids, because we notoriously take a long time to decide on one cheap thing. But I'm pretty decisive, so maybe I'll prove him wrong.

I wander over to the counter covered in glass, with an array of necklaces and lockets. Most of them are similar; chubby, heart shaped gold lockets or silver necklaces with diamonds strung on it. But one is different, and it catches my eye. It's a thick bronze chain with a large ovular pendant on it. The pendant has a cursive letter _L_ engraved into it, and it looks really familiar, but I can't place it for the life of me. I'm trying to figure out how I can ask to see it without coming across annoying or bothersome. It's always been a struggle for me to talk to strangers, or really anyone in general, due to social anxiety. I spend a good few minutes just staring at it until I can't take it anymore.

"Can I see that one?" I ask quickly, pointing to the necklace. The man looks up, raising an eyebrow quizzically, and I feel the heat rush to my cheeks. "I mean, if it isn't too much trouble."

The employee grabs a key from next to the cash register, and opens up the case. He takes out the necklace and hands it to me. I hold the pendant in my hand, staring at the _L_ , willing my memory to be jogged. I find a nob on the side and twist it half a turn, and the locket flies open. Inside is a weathered, yellowed picture of Lana and I. My breath hitches in my throat, and I look up at the disinterested sails-man.

"You wanna buy it?" he asks, glancing down at the locket.

"I-" I take a deep breath. "How much?"

"$75," he says, glancing at a tag on the case.

I'm reaching for my money from my purse when the bells for the Reaping go off.

"Come back after the Reaping," he says, taking the locket from me. "I'll keep this behind the counter so no one takes it before you can."

"Thank you," I say, with a slight smile.

I head across the shop for the door and push it open and head out to the Square.

* * *

The Holding Residence, June 16th, 1:00 pm

 **Cyno Holding (13) POV**

 **District 3 male**

Of course my parents aren't home. Why would they be? I mean, it's not like it's literally the most terrifying day of the year or anything. Whatever. My parents are out working, because apparently CEOs don't get vacation on the day of the Reaping. There's always people to micromanage. As much as I fear the Reaping, I know there's nothing I can really do about it. It's here to stay, and there's no changing it at least not on my part.

I need to kill some time before the Reaping, so I make some food. It's a pretty long walk to the Square, and I don't want to be light headed or dizzy on the way there. I'm finishing my bread, cheese and apple when the bells go off, signalling to start heading to the Square. I decide to just buck up and deal with the Reaping, since I've reminded myself that I can't change it, and the consequences will be severe if I try. I look down at what I'm wearing, and decide that the jeans and T-shirt are good enough. Any more or less would draw attention to me, and I don't really need more reasons for people to make fun of me. It's always something; my pale skin my skinny frame, or the bruises given to me by the very people that mock them.

It's always the rich kids, the ones with better clothes and more to eat. More friends, too. I don't think they know how much they have to lose. They take so much for granted, it's like they don't even know how hard the rest of us have it. It's gotten only slightly better in the past year, but so much worse at the same time. The guy who made fun of me the most was Reaped for the Games last year, and died almost instantly in the bloodbath; a fate I know is destined for me, should I ever be Reaped. I was friends with his younger sister Mirah for a while; people didn't like her much because she was autistic. Never mind that she was one of the sweetest girls ever. But she died in a tree climbing accident mere days after Fenton came to District 3 on his Victory Tour. I haven't made other friends since.

After I decide that I can't possibly stall for any longer, I head out the door and shuffle slowly to the Square. As I'm walking, I see Vulcan Copper, the sixteen-year-old boy that's taken over terrorizing me since Will died. He's in line for getting his finger pricked, standing in the very back with his friends. If I get in line with him, he could do anything, but if I hide until he's through the line, I run the risk of being late to the Reaping. I decide to take the risk and duck in an alley between buildings.

My plan backfires almost immediately, when a Peacekeeper comes up to me with his gun, hitting me in the temple with the butt of it.

"Trying to skip the Reaping, are you?" he asks, rhetorically.

"No sir, I-" I'm cut off.

"You better believe if you're not Reaped, you'll be in the Square tied to the whipping post."

The Peacekeeper grabs me by the ear, leading me to the front of the line to get my finger pricked. I avert my eyes as we pass Vulcan, but I hear him yelling and laughing with his friends as they see me being led to the front. After I get my blood drawn, I walk to the 13-year-old boys' section and chose to stand in the barest spot, in the hopes of avoiding human interaction. The long-time escort, Pierre Hayes makes his way up to the stage, tossing his head of bright green hair as he goes.

"Good afternoon, District 3!" he bellows, his voice deep unlike most Capitolites. It's a refreshing change to the usual high squeaky voices of most. "I don't see much use in dillydallying, so why don't we begin with the young women?"

Pierre reaches into the female reaping bowl and grabs a slip of paper from the middle of the bowl. He unravels it, then takes a deep breath. In a clear voice into the microphone, he says "Heather Frayman!"

A really pretty 14-year-old girl emerges from her section with a blank expression, shaking slightly as she walks up the steps to the stage. Her wavy brown hair flutters in the wind with the hem of her dress. She has a slightly crooked nose and her eyes are on the small side, but her imperfections make her that much more attractive. I've never seen or met her, but she's got to have boy in line around the District waiting for her. But she doesn't look the type to win the Games, so it's unlikely that I'll ever get to know her, unless-

"Our male tribute this year is Cyno Holding!"

My first thought is _Well, at least I won't be whipped in the Square._

My second thought? _Fuck._

I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and it takes all of my strength to drag myself up to the stage. Once I get up to the stage, I glance at Heather, who looks at me with pure pity in her eyes. This pushes me over the edge, and I start sobbing. Pierre tells us to shake hands, and we both hesitate, just staring at each other. When I'm sure she's going to turn away and walk into the Justice Building without me, she grabs my shoulders and pulls me in for a hug.

"You'll be fine," she whispers, nowhere near loud enough for the microphone to pick up. "Everything's okay."

I know it was probably supposed to help, but Heather's kind words only make me more panicky. How can she possibly be calm in this situation? In a matter of weeks, we'll both be dead, and she's trying to reassure me? To tell me that everything will be okay? I pull away from her hug and wipe my eyes, trying to diminish the tears, but to no avail. Since I'm still crying, it's hard to get rid of the tears.

We walk into the Justice Building side by side, and I'm led into a small room with a plush couch and dark wooden furniture. I mean to sprawl out on the couch while I wait to be taken to the train station, but instead, I end up laying face down, buried in the soft beige carpet, waiting for Heather's visitor to be gone so I can be one train ride closer to death.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Heather Frayman (14) POV**

 **District 3 female**

I'm expecting neither of my parents to come and visit me, and I was right. In fact, without my parents visiting I wasn't expecting anyone to. It came as a shock when a Peacekeeper ushers in a man. I'm briefly hopeful when I first see the frame of the man. Maybe it's my dad? Instead, I'm greeted by the man from the pawn shop.

"I brought you the necklace you were eyeing earlier," he says, extending Lana's locket.

I take the necklace, placing it over my head and around my neck. I grab my purse from the side table, reaching inside to give him the money, but he shakes his head, creasing his brow as if the idea is absurd.

"Don't worry about it," he says. "It's yours. Just promise you'll wear it in the arena."

"I will," I say, staring at the ground instead of meeting his eye.

He leaves before he's asked to, and in seconds, Pierre comes in with Cyno to bring us to the train.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Cyno Holding (13) POV**

 **District 3 male**

No one bothers to visit me. I didn't think anyone would, but it hurts that my suspicions were correct.

While I'm waiting for Heather to be done with her visitors, I take a few minutes to really think about what going into the Game means. I should be terrified; there's next to no chance of me making it out of the bloodbath alive, much less the arena itself. But in a strange way, I'm okay with it. I don't know why, but in this part of my life, I wouldn't mind death. I really wouldn't. The thought of someone plunging a knife through my heart is almost calming, and after a few minutes used to absorb the whole idea, I find myself not a scared as I was this morning.

If death is the worst that can happen, the outcome won't be bad at all.

* * *

 **Big thanks to DobbyTheFreeElf1290 for Heather and Mykindleisawesome for Cyno!**

 **Congratulations Fifidear for being my 100th reviewer.**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Heather or Cyno?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **Looking back, I wrote a lot for Heather. I wasn't trying to be unfair with the lengths of the POVs, but in all honesty, I had a hard time writing for her, so it was kind of just word vomit.**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	7. District 4 Reaping

_Success means having the courage, the determination and the will to become the person you believe you were meant to be._  
-George A. Sheehan

* * *

Sea to Shore Restaurant, June 16th, 12:00 pm

 **Penny War (18) POV**

 **District 4 female**

"I'm just so proud of you!" mom squeals, reaching across the table of sushi to squeeze my hand. I jerk it away and cast my eyes down, staring at my lap. "My baby girl is volunteering for the Hunger Games!"

"Mom, I told you," I say. "I can't volunteer; I wasn't chosen."

"But the trainer promised you that since Star stole your spot last year, you were guaranteed the spot this year!" dad exclaims.

"Well, I didn't win the practice battle," I mumble, pushing a toro roll across my plate. "Elle Maults did."

"I was under the impression that there wouldn't be a battle," dad says. "I thought it was guaranteed to be you."

"Well..." I trail off. "Do you remember how you told me that I should twist Star's ankle to be picked to go into the Games last year?"

"Yeah, I was there," he says. "What about it?"

"The academy found out about it," I say. "And they took away the instant acceptance to volunteer. Dustin said that since I'm so talented, they would let me compete, but I lost the final round. I didn't know Elle was so good with a sword."

"Well, I'm sorry they're not letting you volunteer," mom says sympathetically.

"You know in my day, there was no training competition like there is now," dad says, taking a sip of his water. "If we wanted to volunteer, we didn't have to ask for permission. We just did."

"Interesting," I say, distantly. "Look, I gotta go. I'll see you after the Reaping."

"Don't you want to stay for dessert?" mom asks. "Your brother said he can get us free ice cream since he works here."

"No, I really have to go," I say, grabbing my backpack from the back of the chair. "I'll see you after the Reaping, alright? Tell Triton I said hey."

"We will," mom says.

I swing my backpack over my shoulder, making a mental note to change before the Reaping. Cutoff shorts and a crop top with sneakers is fine for lunch with my parents, but I need to get more dressed up for the Reaping. But first, I need to go to my friend Shelly's house to propose my plan to her. She's the final word, as the more rational one of the two of us.

While I'm walking to her house, I take a few minutes to really think about this. Is volunteering in spite of expressly being told not to something that I want to do? The more rational part of me knows that as much as I hate it, Elle was chosen for a reason, and the reason was her superior sword skills. But the tournaments are completely biased; you only really win them if you use close range weapons, and while I can handle a spear, Elle's sword nearly split it in half. Had we been distance fighting, I would have won by a landslide.

With these realizations in mind, I decide that yes, volunteering is definitely something I want to do. Elle's victory was completely unfair, and I was never truly given a chance to show what I could do. If Shelly doesn't agree with that, I'll make her. With the knowledge that I'm volunteering, I take the rest of the walk to Shelly's house with a new spring in my step.

Unfortunately, Shelly lives on the same street as Elle, meaning I have to walk past Elle's house to get to Shelly. I'm hoping that she won't be outside, but as luck would have it, she's sat outside in the grass with Coral Ivory, her best friend, except for Star Fire, who almost won last year's Games. Even though it would have been cool to have another District 4 Victor, I would have hated for it to have been Star, and in a sick way, I'm glad that Fenton killed her. If I ever meet him, I'll have to tell him that.

I walk past the two of them, facing the opposite side of the road in the hopes that they won't see me. It's not that I'm scared of them, I just really want to avoid confrontation. But they do.

"Bitch," Coral mutters under her breath.

"Slut," Elle says, disguising it with a cough.

"Excuse me," I snap, looking her directly in the eye. " _I'm_ the slut? Last I checked, I'm not the one that slept with Daniel Lanthair just because we were both chosen to volunteer."

Elle and Coral both stand to their feet quickly, staring at me with venom in their eyes.

"Last _I_ checked, you weren't chosen to volunteer at all," Coral says, smirking. "So how's the view from your high horse?"

"Excellent," I say, shifting my feet. "I'm looking down on you, like I should be."

Coral and Elle stand, jaws dropped, eyebrows raised and staring at me. I take advantage of their state of disbelief to turn on my heel and walk away to Shelly's house. It only takes a moment, and once I get there, I knock on the door. Shelly answers, already in her Reaping garb; a soft white halter dress with pale pink flowers along the waistline. We went shopping for our Reaping dresses together, and I got a similar one in yellow instead of pink.

"Hey, how's it going?" she asks. "I thought we were meeting each other at the Reaping."

"I know, but I had to run something by you," I say, twirling a strand of reddish hair around my finger. "I was talking to my dad, and… And I think I'm gonna volunteer."

"No way!" she says, grinning. "I thought Elle was picked."

"She was," I say, mischievously. "But my dad was telling me about how when he was younger, if you wanted to volunteer, you just did."

"You were supposed to volunteer last year as it is," she contributes. "It's only fair that you go this year."

"Exactly," I say. "Besides, what do I have to lose?"

"Aside from your sanity?" Shelly asks, sarcastically.

I act confused. "What sanity?"

"Fair enough," she says, nodding.

It's my time to shine at the Reaping. It's my time to take back what belongs to me, and nothing will stand in my way.

* * *

The Training Academy, June 16th, 1:00 pm

 **Dustin Zigmund (18) POV**

 **District 4 male**

"Fix your footing, Ashley!"

"Nice grip, Melissa!"

"Jessica, try to aim a bit higher."

Even though it's Reaping day, there's always people getting some training in. It's usually the volunteers that are looking for one last session with their familiar weapons and trainers, the backup volunteers that are hoping that we'll pick them last minute and the 16 and 17-year-olds that are already prepping for next year's Games. This year, the backup male volunteer, Douglas Pisces dropped out last minute to run away with his girlfriend, leaving us with no backup for Daniel Lanthair, in case anything happens to him. Elle Maults was selected to volunteer by people with a much higher position than I do, and Penny War, who was supposed to volunteer last year was chosen as the backup.

Today, I was assigned to work with the 17 and 18-year-olds, and with the general absence of Douglas and the current absence of Penny and Star, I'm left with a hoard of aspiring Careers and Daniel.

"Hey, Dustin!" Daniel calls. "Check this out!"

I send an apologetic look to the girls at the knife throwing section that I was helping, and jog over to spears to meet Dustin. He's holding a spear in each hand and grinning ear to ear.

"What is it?" I ask, noting his excitement.

"Watch," he says, simply.

He winds back both hands, still holding a spear in each. He lets them fly at the same time, and the spear in his right hand lands in the middle of the dummy's forehead, and the left spear lands about an inch from its heart. He winces, and then turns to face me.

"Other than being slightly off, what did you think?" he asks, looking at me expectantly.

"Well, if I'm being honest," I start. "It was a little flashy. The one spear to the head would have done the job just fine, and if you showed this to the Gamemakers, they would probably dock you a point for not hitting the heart directly. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, when you put it like that, it does," he says, smiling. "Thanks."

"Alright guys!" I shout. "The Reaping starts in 45 minutes, so go get changed before the bells go off!"

The dozen or so trainees all swarm to the locker room, but Daniel hangs back for a minute.

"What's up?" I ask. "Why aren't you getting ready for the Reaping? All eyes are gonna be on you and Elle, you have to look your best."

"That's what I'm scared about," he says. "I can't go into the arena with her."

I heard from one of the girls I was helping recently that Daniel and Elle had had a one night stand a few weeks ago, celebrating the fact that they'd both been chosen to volunteer. I had dismissed it at the time as petty gossip, however, the panicked look on Daniel's face tells me that not only may it have happened, but he didn't think of it as a one-time thing.

"Daniel…" I hesitate. "Are you and Elle… Do you have feelings for her?"

"Not particularly," he says, shrugging. "I mean, she's pretty hot, and not all that bad in be-" I cut him off.

"Then why don't you want to go into the Games with her?" I ask. "She'll be a fantastic District partner."

"That's just it," he says, wringing his hands. "Dustin, I'm terrified of her. I feel like I'm going to fall asleep next to her and not wake up. I feel like one day, she's going to get tired of me and poison my water, or give me inedible food. I'm paranoid that the only way I'll make it out is if I kill her before she kills me. But that's ridiculous, right?"

"It's not a ridiculous thought, but it would sure as hell be a ridiculous execution," I assure him. "Elle is not going to kill you, and if you kill her, I'll go into the arena and kill you myself. District 4 has more class than to kill our District partners. Sometimes it costs us or own lives, but we go down with honor; something the tributes from 1 and 2 can't always say."

"Thanks for that," he says, smiling in relief. "I really needed that. I'm gonna go get changed, I'll see you at the Reaping."

"I'll make sure to visit you after you volunteer," I say.

"See you then."

As Dustin heads into the locker rooms, I begin the short walk to the Square, and after getting my finger pricked, I head to the spot with all of the other 18-year-old males. In smaller Districts such as 6, 8 and 12, both genders of each age group are grouped together, but in larger Districts like 4, 10 and 11, it gets too crowded, so they separate it by both age and gender.

Once the rest of the District's teenagers file into their pens, the escort walks up to the stage. She's a pretty young woman with bright turquoise hair, and she couldn't be more than five years older than me.

"Welcome, District 4, to the Reaping for the 227th Hunger Games!" Azura calls into the microphone. Everyone in the audience begins clapping and cheering, and she gives us a moment to calm down. "As always, we should start with the women."

Azura walks over to the girls' bowl and grabs the first slip she touches, knowing full well there will be a volunteer. She unravels the paper and clears her throat into the microphone.

"Blair Cabot!"

"I volunteer!" a voice calls.

"You bitch! I volunteer!" a different voice shouts.

"I'm sorry Miss," Azura says. "But I do believe that the young lady in the yellow volunteered first. Come on up, sweetheart."

Wait. No, no, no. Why the ever living hell is Penny getting on the stage. She wasn't supposed to volunteer, this was not part of the plan. If Penny's going into the Games, we might as well just eliminate the letter M.

"What's your name, darling?" Azura asks thrusting the microphone in her face.

"My name is Penny War!" she shouts, with a big smile. "And I'm going to bring District 4 another victor!"

"How touching!" Azura gushes. "And now, onto the men."

She digs around in the male Reaping bowl for a second, then unfolds the paper, reading the name with a smile on her face.

"Daniel Lanthair!"

Penny volunteered, and now Daniel is Reaped? What the fucking fuck? This is addness. This is utter and coplete addness.

Daniel mounts the stage, beaming, grinning like the cat that drank the cream. As he stands on the stage beaming, I notice Penny glaring at him with contempt. While I was certain Elle wouldn't kill him unless it was necessary, or if he was in pain, Penny very well might. If Daniel goes into the Games with Penny, I'm certain the only way he'll make it out is in a wooden box. He deserves more than that.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Penny War (18) POV**

 **District 4 female**

I know I shouldn't, but the fact that neither Elle nor Dustin made it into the Games is hysterical to me. It's just such an interesting turn of events that neither of the planned volunteers made it into the Games. But it sucks to be them; volunteering is something sacred, something meant for only the best. If you volunteer, you're considered one of the best. To me, it doesn't matter that I wasn't chosen. The fact that I had the wherewithal to volunteer without being asked already makes me the best.

On a personal level, I have a certain vendetta against Dustin. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have had to get to the stage before Elle, because it would have been me that was selected. But he just had to open his mouth about me sabotaging Star, and it cost me the right to volunteer.

That's not to say that it's my main goal in the arena to kill Dustin- that's ridiculous, he's my District partner- but if he was in the way of a mutt or another tribute, I don't know that I would push him out of the way.

After I volunteer, the first people in to visit me are my parents and my older brother, Triton. Upon entrance to the room, they're all grinning widely, and Triton pulls me in for a hug.

"Congratulations!" dad bellows, a proud look in his eyes.

"We're so proud of you," mom adds.

"I knew you had it in you," Triton contributes. "Do you have a token?"

"Umm," I hesitate. "I wasn't really planning on volunteering."

Mom reaches into her purse and pulls out a small, round rose-gold object. I cup my hand and she drops it in.

"A pearl?" I ask, rolling it between my fingers.

"It was in one of the oysters from earlier," dad supplies. "You must have left it there."

"I didn't even think to go through them," I say, smiling up at him. "Thank you guys so much."

"Penny, there's not a doubt in my mind that you can win these Games," Triton says, shifting into a more serious mood. "But with Dustin in the competition, it might be a bit harder. He's not just a Career; he trains them. You need to keep that in mind."

"I will," I say, meekly. I had forgotten that he was more extensively trained than the rest of us. The thought of him knowing things I don't almost scares me, but I get over it pretty quickly; there's plenty I can do that he can't. I mean, probably.

The four of us make idle small talk for the next several minutes until a Peacekeeper comes in and gently tells them that it's time to leave. They leave without a fuss, and are soon replaced with Shelly and my other friend, Pearl. Shelly and I share a knowing smile, but since Pearl was working her lifeguard job when I consulted Shelly about volunteering, she's floored.

"What the hell?" she asks, smiling. "I can't believe it, I thought it was Elle!"

"It was," I respond, haughtily. "But hey, it's my last Reaping, and if I didn't volunteer today, I would never be able to. And I'd regret it."

"Fair enough," she says. "I can see why you'd think that."

"Do you have a token?" Shelly asks, reaching behind her hair to unclasp her locket.

"Shelly, don't," I say. "My mom just gave me one."

"Okay," she says, breathing a sigh of relief. "I don't think I could live without my necklace."

"So not to be that guy or anything," Pearl starts. "But what exactly is your plan?"

"The hell do you mean what's my plan?" I ask, rhetorically. "I'm a Career; my plan is to dominate. I'll stay with the others until they get annoying, and then I'll get my shit and run. Nothing's going to stop me from getting back home."

Before either of them can respond, the same Peacekeeper as before ushers them out. I'm not expecting anyone else, but a girl with bright red hair hurls herself at me.

"How fucking dare you!" she screams. "What the hell gives you the right-"

"Elle, please shut the fuck up," I say, falsely sympathetic. "I volunteered, and there's literally nothing you can do about it. Sorry to burst your bubble, but it's my year."

"If by some miracle you make it home, I'll kill you myself," she says. Before I have the chance to call for security, she storms out on her own, knocking over a vase on her way out.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Dustin Zigmund (18) POV**

 **District 4 male**

After volunteering, I'm grateful for the slight lag between getting to the room in the Justice Building and family and friends visiting, because I'm not ready to see anyone. How do I explain to Daniel how I didn't have faith in him to win? How do I rationalize going back on my promise to Nyx and Theo about never volunteering? They both went through the Games themselves, and despite winning, both described it as hell. As for my parents, there's no way I'll make them understand. Not after Dixie.

Growing up, my family was always considerably lower class than most others in the District, but we made do. My sister, Dixie, was determined to bring home the Victor's crown so we could live in the luxury she felt we all deserved. Our parents were disappointed that they didn't have everything we needed, but they supported her decision to train with the hopes of volunteering.

None of us were surprised when she was picked to volunteer. She was a picture-perfect Victor; a trained girl with a brain, a pretty face and a beautiful personality. When she volunteered at age 16, no one in the District was even remotely surprised- people had been expecting Dixie to volunteer since she started training. The only thing that shocked people was her death, placing fourth.

Which is why I'm not the least bit surprised when my parents storm into the room, my mother crying her eyes out and my father with a stern, if slightly disappointed look on his face.

"I can't…" mom sobs. "My little Dustin!"

"Dustin, what possessed you to volunteer?" dad asks. "Daniel was Reaped, there's no rule that someone has to volunteer every year."

"Dad, I know," I say. "Really, I do. But seeing Dan up there… I just couldn't picture him coming home. I know I have a better shot at winning than he does, and I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if he died and there was something I could have done to prevent it."

My parents are quiet, but my mom breaks it after a few beats, speaking with a shaking voice and wringing her hands together.

"We can't lose you and Dixie," she says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Please, try to come home. We're all broken enough as it is."

"I will, mom," I say, pulling her in for a hug. I feel her tears soak through the front pocket of my blue dress shirt, and I hug her tighter. When I feel her pulling away, I let her go, and my dad reaches for my hand pulling me into a hug of his own.

Before a Peacekeeper comes to inevitably bring my parents away, mom reaches into her purse and pulls out a gold bangle. I recognize it immediately as Dixie's District token from her time in the Games, and while I'd usually protest, I allow her to slide it up my wrist.

"Don't forget about your sister while you're in there," Dad says.

"I won't," I promise.

A Peacekeeper comes in, and so as not to cause a scene, my parents leave calmly. They're almost immediately replaced by my friends Drew, Nyx and Theo, the latter two of which have won the Games previously. Theo won the 216th Games at 17, and is 28 now. Nyx won the 214th at 17, and just turned 30. My only friend close to my age is Drew Redmond, who I'm only friends with from training. I promised Theo and Nyx that I'd never volunteer after hearing their stories, and once I lock eyes with Nyx, she gives me a harsh slap on the face.

"I deserved that," I say.

"Damn right you did," she says. "Dustin, why did you do this?"

A hurt expression settles over her generally pretty features, and I refrain from delivering the sarcastic response that I otherwise would.

"Look, I really wasn't planning on it," I admit. "It took Daniel being Reaped for me to realize that I never should have picked him over Douglas, even if he did elope. Especially with Penny, Dan didn't stand a chance."

"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing," Drew says. "You have instincts for a reason, and I'm glad you followed them."

"Thanks, Drew," I say.

"So, what's your plan?" Theo asks. "I mean, District 4 has made it to the finale the past five years, so I have faith in you and Penny."

"Careers, probably," I say. "I mean, the Careers the past few years have been impressive, so I don't see any reason not to stick with them."

"What about a strategy?" he asks.

The truth is, I don't have one. Most volunteers get weeks of notice before they're picked, so they get a long time to plan; a luxury I didn't get. I have no clue what I'm in for going into the Games. So I decide to change the topic, ever so carefully.

"How are you here?" I ask. "I thought mentors weren't allowed to visit."

"We're not mentoring," Nyx cuts in. "Coral's mentoring the girl again this year, which is some bullshit, if you ask me."

"Who's mentoring me, then?" I ask, worried. I really hope it's someone good.

"Reef Roman," Theo says.

"Why?!" I exclaim. "He's like 40, why would they chose him over you?"

"Don't be so quick to judge," Theo says. "He mentored Tim last year."

"Yeah, and you mentored Aiden in the Quell," I argue. "Who made it further?"

Before he can rebuttal, the Peacekeeper comes in and leads them out.

I'm half expecting him to return back in with Daniel, but I guess he's too mad to see me. I wish he had come in before I left so I could explain, but I'm counting on Theo, Nyx or Drew to for me. I sit on the velveteen couch for the next several minutes, waiting for Penny's visitors to be gone. Once they apparently leave, the same Peacekeeper comes in for me, and the two of us are led out of the Justice Building.

* * *

 **Well, that was a shit load longer than I thought it would be. Don't get used to it.**

 **Thank you, thank you, thank you to Jms2 for Penny and Fifidear for Dustin!**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Penny or Dustin?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **5) Out of the 8 introduced tributes so far, who would you most like to see win?**

 **I'm not gonna do Spotlight Stories like I have in my last stories, because that honestly just got repetitive, and it was exhausting trying to get new stories constantly. However, I will on occasion shout out an author. _Sooo_ , guys! _IVolunteerAsAuthor_. He does really great stories, and when he kills someone off, you'll want to kill him Sapphirina style (Explosions or poison, either works.) If you're a reader that understands that, props. He started his first ever SYOT recently, and updates come so frequently. I have a tribute in the story, so I hope some of you guys read it!**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	8. District 5 Reaping

_Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I-_  
 _I took the one less traveled by_  
 _And that has made all the difference._  
-Robert Frost

* * *

Power Plant #2094, June 16th, 11:00 am

 **Clio Paxton (17) POV**

 **District 5 female**

The buzzer signaling the end of the work day goes off at precisely 11:00 am on the day of the Reaping, 5 hours earlier than it would any other day. Families are given 3 hours to go home and clean up before the Reaping, and report back to work at 3:00 pm and work until 7:00. The only families exempt are the families of the chosen tributes.

Anyway.

I begin to file out of the power plant with my coworkers, but before I leave, I run into my dad. I slow my pace and we walk together in a comfortable silence until we get outside. We start walking home to get ready for the Reaping, and along the way, I notice him sending fleeting glances my way, but I don't acknowledge any of them. I'm just not in the mood to talk today. Not to mention, the looks are probably more to see if I'm keeping up with him than concern over my well being.

"Worried about today?" he asks, halfheartedly looking over his shoulder. I shrug. "You have nothing to be worried about; you're statistically unlikely to be picked."

"If you want to talk statistics, I'm just as likely to get picked as anyone else," I counter.

We all live about the same here in District 5. 90% of us are menial labor workers; factories, nuclear reaction centers that we adopted from District 13, power plants- that would be me. 9% are considered "smart," even though we're all a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of Panem. The "smart" ones work in labs, making some sort of use of the chemicals and formulas provided by the Capitol. They're not too much wealthier than us, but they get apartments above the labs and a less degrading job. The remaining 1% is wealthy without even half trying; Peacekeepers, the Mayor, families of the Victors.

We're no richer or poorer than most of the District. I took out just as much tessera as anyone else did- maybe less, considering I'm an only child- but in the long run, we're all in the same boat with the same chances. Last time someone from the 1% went into the Games was over 30 years ago when one of the mayor's kids had the bright idea to volunteer. Idiot died in the bloodbath.

My dad is silent, and we continue the walk home quiet. We get to our high rise, one apartment in a building of many. The elevators haven't worked since we moved in, and we climb the six flights of stairs. Upon walking into the entryway, I immediately make a B-line for our makeshift bathroom area. I put up the curtain and take as good of a bath as I can, scrubbing the grime from work off. I work hard not to get my hair wet, since it'll only frizz, but eventually I cave, since it really does need to be washed. Immediately after, I wrap myself in a towel and go to my room, closing the door.

I wring out my hair so it doesn't get my clothes wet, and then put on what little acceptable clothing I have, just a gray skirt with an old white sweater. It's too hot for this, but I either wear this, or my factory uniform. I cross my room to a cracked full length mirror and brush out my wavy blonde hair, noticing that it's already frizzy.

"Shit," I mutter. After some trial and error, I decide to just leave it alone. There's nothing overwhelmingly bad about it, and it really is unlikely that anyone will see it.

"Clio, you ready?" dad calls.

"Dad, the bells haven't even-" I'm cut off by the bells going off. "I'll be right there."

I make one last effort to tame my hair, and then leave my bedroom, taking one last fleeting look before I leave. I walk out through my doorway and into the living room. Wordlessly, dad opens the door and steps aside, allowing me to go ahead of him. As soon as I'm out the door, I push back him and run back to my room. I almost forgot.

I run back into my room and look around in a panic. It's not on my shelf. Where did I put it? _Where did I put it?_ I check under my bed, on my desk and in the box in my closet and there's no sign of the leather bound, crinkled pages of my mother's poetry book. It's the last thing I have of my mother, and if I happen to be Reaped, there's no way in hell I'm going into the Games without it. Finally I find it, buried under the work uniforms in my drawer. It's a small book, about the size of my hand. In order to seem unsuspecting, I remove the page that I ripped out before my first Reaping. I was convinced that I would be Reaped, and that I would need a token. I chose my favorite, _The Road Not Taken._ I fold the poem in half twice before sliding it up my sleeve.

As calmly as I can, I exit my room and walk back to my father. I try to control my breathing and keep my face as neutral as possible.

"Don't tell me you were getting that God awful poem," he says, disgustedly. "I always told your mother that poetry wasn't good for anything."

"Well, since mom died, someone should carry on her tradition," I say. "Besides, I didn't even get the poem. I was just turning off my light."

"Sure," he says, not believing me one bit. "Well, if you get Reaped and that's what you want to waste on your token, I can't stop you."

"Nothing can be a waste of a token," I argue. "The Gamemakers would take away anything that would be of real use."

"We're going to be late," he says, when he realizes he's lost. "Are you coming with me, or do you want me to leave you for the Peacekeepers to find?"

Sighing, I push past him, walking faster than I know he can. I can walk without him to the Reaping. If he's going to be an asshole, I don't need him. I walk the several miles to the Square by myself, and on my way, I recite the lines to the poem to myself. Over the years, I've memorized it. On occasion, I look over my shoulder to make sure my father isn't in sight, and I'll pull the poem out of my sleeve, taking in the feel of the old paper, the faded ink and the torn, once crisp edges, cherishing every crease and stain I made when I was young.

Eventually, I make it to the Square and stand in line to get my blood drawn. I wait in line patiently, and as I'm nearing the front, I see my dad enter the section for anyone younger than 12 and older than 18. District 5 isn't an especially large District, but that's still a lot of people. Finally it's my turn, and the man in the Peacekeeper uniform takes my blood.

"Clio Paxton, 17, female, District 5," he states.

"Gee, I had no idea," I say sarcastically, yanking my hand back.

"Watch it girl, or it'll be your head," he sneers.

"Whatever," I say, turning away. I head to my section and entertain myself until the escort hops up onto the stage.

That's when reality sets in.

* * *

The Stork Residence, June 16th, 1:00 pm

 **Elijah Stork (16) POV**

 **District 5 male**

I sit on my bed with the covers pushed down at my feet, painting my nails with a shaky hand. My button down shirt is an eye catching electric blue, and my pants, a bright neon green. To add more color to my outfit, I paint my nails highlighter orange. This is sure to get me noticed. Perfect.

"Elijah, honey, can you help your sister get ready for the Reaping?" Mom calls into my room.

"Fauna is eleven years old!" I yell. "She can get herself ready for the Reaping!"

"I need you to do my makeup!" Fauna yells. "I can't do it myself!"

"Put a light color on your eyelid and a dark color in the crease!" I shout back to her. "And you need peach blush, not pink."

There's a pause, but after a moment, she screams back "I don't know what any of those words mean!"

"Oh my GOD!" I yell, before grabbing my bright orange makeup case and stomping to her room. "What do you need?"

"I don't _need_ anything, but it would help if you did my makeup," she says. "You know, so I don't look like a clown."

"Why do you need makeup?" I ask, rhetorically. "The cameras won't see you... At all. There's no chance that you'll be Reaped, so no one will be looking at you."

"If you get Reaped, they'll do a closeup of me and mom and dad," she points out, hand on her hip. "And then what? I can't look like a mess on national television. No way."

"Irrelevant," I say, waving my hand. "I'm not going to be Reaped, I can feel it in my gut."

"You never know, Elijah," Fauna points out, opening a compact and handing it to me with a brush. "Confidence doesn't help you in these situations, it's all the luck of the draw. Literally. Being overly confident won't make you any less likely to be picked."

"By your own logic, being overly confident won't make me any more likely to be picked either," I say, smirking. "And I've been through more Reapings than you. I know how this works. Trust me when I say that I probably won't be picked. It's just not likely."

"If you get picked, I'm gonna laugh," she says, snatching back the makeup. "No pity at all."

After she says this, my eyes well up, and I close them to keep tears from falling. My own sister wouldn't be sad if I was going to die? I thought she was my family! I thought we were supposed to love each other unconditionally! I open my eyes back up and my vision is clouded with tears, which I furiously wipe away with the back of my hand. I try to swallow, but there's a lump in my throat the size of District 11, and it refuses to go away. I meet Fauna's glance, and she rolls her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Elijah," she says, her voice filled with contempt. "I just wish you'd be a little more careful. There's a very real possibility that you'll be Reaped, and I just think that if you're unaware of it, you'd be even more crushed if your name was actually called."

"I guess you have a point," I say, sniffling. "But you didn't have to be so mean about it."

"I guess," she says. "Look, why don't I figure out my own makeup so you can fix yours. Your mascara is everywhere."

"Okay," I say. I begin to leave, but she cuts me off.

"But if I were you..." she trails off.

"What?" I snap.

"I just don't want you to give Joey Foster the wrong idea," she says, with a slight smile. "He's had his eye on you for a while."

"I am not gay!" I screech.

"Sure, Elijah," she mutters, sarcastically.

"I'm not!" I insist. "Really! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to fix my makeup."

I storm out of Fauna's room and into mine, cringing once I see myself in the mirror. My sister was right; my mascara really is everywhere. Not to mention, my eyes are red ad puffy. I remove everything with a wipe, then reapply some concealer, powder, mascara and the tiniest amount of blush. I don't wear makeup on a daily basis, but the Reaping is a special occasion, and I think it calls for it. Once I'm done with my makeup, I mess up my hair a bit until it's sitting how I like it to, then smile at my reflection, pleased at how it came out.

The next thing I know, the bells signalling us to leave for the Reaping go off, and I start to hyperventilate. I can't handle this Reaping, I just can't! I need to get away. I need to run away. Yeah, that's it. I'll fake my death, become a recluse and leave, so I'l never have the chance to be Reaped ever again. I can live off of the land- I know there's a lot of mushrooms on the round outside the District, I learned that. And nobody ever died from eating forest mushrooms, right? They can't have. I'll be fine.

But if the mushrooms don't taste good, what am I going to eat? Obviously I'm not going to eat anything that doesn't taste good. Maybe I'll just eat myself. I'll cut of a toe and eat it, and then I won't eat again until that toe grows back.

"Elijah, time for the Reaping!" mom says. "Come on, let's go!"

"No!" I yell. "I'm running away!"

"You are not running away," she says, sounding more frustrated than anything. "Now _let's go._ "

"Coming," I say, timidly.

I walk out of my room and walk to the Square with my family. The entire way there, I get more and more scared that I'll be Reaped. But I probably won't.

* * *

Victor's Village, House #3 (The Schripe Residence), The Nursery, June 16th, 1:30 pm

 **Alicia Schripe (17) Mentor POV**

 **Victor of the 225th Hunger Games**

"Alicia, we're leaving for the Reaping!" I hear Dad call from down the hall, over the sound of Ross's screaming. "Are you coming?"

I stick my head out the door, wincing. "I'll meet you there, okay? Tell Ashley I'm coming."

His footsteps retreat down the hall, and after a moment, I hear the front door slam shut. I retrieve Ross from his crib, flushed against the wall, holding the screaming baby close to my heart. After a good fifteen minutes of light bouncing, whispering and singing, he calms down and looks up at me with glassy eyes. I stick out my tongue and cross my eyes, and he smiles a big toothless grin. I smile back at him and kiss the top of his head before rushing out of the house.

I strap him into his car seat of the car that I got a few months ago. Last year I walked to the Square from my house in Victor's Village, and was a sweaty, disheveled mess by the time I got there. I haven't quite nailed the whole driving thing yet, since there's only so many people in the District with cars, and literally no one to help teach me, but I'm confident enough to drive my infant son 10 minutes across the District.

I park near the Square, get out of the car and unbuckle him from the car seat. He reaches up for me, and I carry him quickly up the stairs to the stage, taking my seat on the end next to Nathan, my mentor from when I was in the Games. As soon as I'm seated, the escort, Kestrel Duncan mounts the stage, understated compared to the rest of the Capitolites. His only visible body alteration is his bright turquoise hair, on both his head and his face. He's wearing a plain black suit with no makeup, piercings or tattoos. He gives me, the other Victors and the Mayor a quick nod before approaching the microphone at the center of the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen of District 5, welcome to the Reaping for the 227th Hunger Games," he says. "No need to beat around the bush here, we all know what's going to happen. So I guess we'll start with the ladies."

He reaches a hand into the female reaping bowl and unravels the first slip he touches. Wasting no time, he leans back into the microphone and says "Clio Paxton."

I look for the girl I used to go to school with in the crowd of people. When I finally find her, I see the girl standing next to her nudge her arm, and I take special note of her, since I'll be mentoring her. I mentored last year, which would normally be grounds for me to be off the hook this year. However, last year, the other female mentor was supposed to mentor, but got sick, so I was just a fill in. I was scheduled to mentor this year, so I have to.

Clio's small, about as small as I was when I was Reaped two years ago, and I was two years younger than her. We're the same age. She was in my grade at school. 10th grade chemistry, we were lab partners. Small world. Her wavy blonde hair is much longer than it was last I saw her; it falls to her mid back now. The gray toned clothes make her big blue eyes look stormy, adding to her angular face. She's always been incredibly pale, and I know that once she gets to the Remake Center, they're going to spray tan her. She has a lot of potential for the Capitolites to find her pretty.

As she's walking up to the stage, she stumbles slightly, tripping over her feet. I wince at the thought of having to teach her how to walk in heels. She finally makes it to the stage, and takes her place behind the female Reaping bowl with a forced looking smile.

"Well, it's been nice knowing you guys," she says, smirking. The crowd lets out a halfhearted laugh, more out of pity than anything else.

How is she doing that? How is she not terrified? When my name was called, I thought my life was over. I was so terrified, I practically crapped my pants. And she's up here making jokes? What kind of superhuman is she?

"Now, onto the boys," Kestrel continues. "This year's male tribute is... Elijah Stork!"

A small cry comes from the crowd, and I'm scared that there's going to be a 12-year-old that Nathan has to mentor. District 5 hasn't had a 12-year-old since the 212th games, and Nathan doesn't bode well with kids. If we have a young kid, we'll have to switch. I'm not letting Nathan mentor a little one.

I feel bad for being relieved when a flamboyant looking boy trudges out of the 16-year-old boys' section. Now I won't feel bad mentoring Clio. Elijah's wearing all bright, flashy colors, and from here, I can see that his nails are painted and that he's wearing a bit of makeup. His hair is neat and orderly, and overall, he looks better than I do. Last year, I dressed my best. This year, I wore ripped jeans and a sweatshirt, minimal makeup and my hair in a pony tail. I'm a mom now, not a prostitute. And I have no one to impress. Supposedly, my "boyfriend," Fenton Henderson loves me just the way I am.

Once Elijah gets to the stage, he looks at the crowd, then at Clio, then the victors, and after a moment, he bursts into tears, blubbering like a baby. This sets Ross off, who starts screaming, burying his face in my shoulder. I carry him into the Justice Building to get him away from the noise, and so after, I hear the slamming door of the tributes being taken in.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Clio Paxton (17) POV**

 **District 5 female**

How did this happen? How the _hell_ did I get Reaped? I mean, I know I had just as much chance as anyone else did, but I'm in shock that my name was the one that was pulled out from that bowl. It was such a slim possibility. I always knew I had a chance, but that's all I thought it was: a chance. Hearing my name pulled from the bowl was almost the worst news of my life.

 _It was a snowy November, not uncommon for District 5, except that it was the first snowfall of the season. Little flurries dropped from the sky, and I ran outside with no coat on to catch one in my mouth. Because everybody knows that if you catch the first snowflake of the first snowfall, whatever wish you make will come true. Even though I was 16, it was a tradition I held dear with my mother, and I knew in my heart of hearts that no matter how old I got, the childish gesture would grow with me, and I'd never stop doing it._

 _I stood in the middle of the yard with my tongue out, waiting for a flake to land in my mouth, but the snow was dropping slowly, almost lazily. It was taking forever._

 _"Clio, why are you doing this?" dad asks, leaning against the door frame. "It's cold, and your mom isn't even home from work yet."_

 _"Can't talk, dad," I say, my words jumbled from the position of my mouth. "I gotta catch the snowflake."_

 _Before my dad can respond, our neighbor Jaxon comes running towards our yard, a sweaty, panting mess. I angle my body towards him, but leave my face up to the sky. Just because I need to listen to him doesn't mean I can't catch this snowflake. I always catch the snowflake, I have to. It's tradition._

 _"Zander!" he breathes. "Oh, and Clio. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

 _"Calm down," my dad says, a hitch in his breath. "Jaxon, what happened?"_

 _"Oh, you didn't hear, did you?" he asks, the pain in his voice perfectly audible. I angle my head slightly down, and make my eyes meet his._

 _"Jaxon?" I ask, my tongue back in my mouth._

 _"Annora passed away," he says, removing his cap and wringing it in his hands. "She had her hair down and just was sucked into one of the machines. I'm so sorry to have been the one to tell you."_

 _My dad drops to his knees, burying his face in his hands, repeating "Why?" over and over again. Even though my parents had their problems, I knew deep down that they really did love each other. Recognizing that I had to be the stronger one, since my father was breaking down, I turned to Jaxon._

 _"Thank you for telling us," I say, offering him a curt nod._

 _"I'm so sorry for your loss," he says, ducking his head. "You let me know if there's anything you need, alright?"_

 _"Will do," I say. "Thank you, sir."_

 _Jaxon shuffles across the street to his house, and the first snowflake falls on the tip of my nose. For the first time in my life, I didn't make a wish._

"Clio?" a voice asks. "Clio, can you answer me, please? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, dad," I say, my voice solid as slate and surprisingly steady. "I'm fine."

"You have that poem, don't you?" he asks. I nod. "I knew it. God, I can't believe that you're wasting your only token on-"

"Please leave," I cut him off.

"I... I'm sorry?"

"If you're not going to be helpful, then I'd like you to leave."

Wordlessly, he goes. I don't expect anyone else. I was right.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Elijah Stork (16) POV**

 **District 5 male**

Screaming and then silence. That's all I hear, is screaming and then silence.

Kestrel calls my name. Screaming. I walk up to the stage. Screaming. Kestrel announces Clio and I as the tributes from District 5. Screaming. Being escorted into the Justice Building. Screaming. Waiting for my family. Screaming. A Peacekeeper telling me that my family wasn't going to come in unless I was quiet. Screaming. The Peacekeeper pulls out a needle.

Silence.

* * *

 **Thanks super bunches to NETWORKS for Clio and Lady Lysa Arryn for Elijah!**

 **Hey guys. Remember me? I am so sorry this came so late. I won't make excuses or tell you it'll never happen again, but I'm gonna try harder, I promise. I've been writing as much and as often as I can, but school happened. So special thanks to James, Chayse, Brooke and Caleb for threatening me with bodily harm until my next update. Y'all are bae af.**

 **So! If you want to be part of an SYOT that might update more than me, check out my profile for a list of "Cool open SYOTs you should submit to." If you have a cool open SYOT, let me know and I'll add it to the list.**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Clio or Elijah?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	9. District 6 Reaping

_We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves strong.  
_ _The amount of work is the same.  
_ -Carlos Castaneda

* * *

The Carlson Residence, June 16th, 12:00 pm

 **Brian Spencer (17) POV**

 **District 6 male**

The day of the Reaping is an off day for workers in District 6, but when you love your job as much as I love mine, you find yourself actually wanting to be there. Most workers in District 6 are menial laborers. Not me though; When I was 15, I passed a test that allowed me to stop work in the train parts manufacturing factory an begin to physically design the parts, figuring out what can fit where, and how things will work together. I like my job because it sets me apart, makes me feel like I'm different from everyone else, like I'm not just some face in the crowd. Some say that makes me seem stuck up, but that's never my intention. It's just that when I see an opportunity, I take it.

However, since it's the day of the Reaping, we were all given the day off from work, meaning that I'm at the next best place- my best friend Ted's house. Well, he hasn't always been my best friend. See, a few years ago, we hated each other more than anything and fought like cats and dogs. Funnily enough, I don't even really remember why we didn't like each other. It must have just been the principle of it. So while I'd like to be working, hanging out with my friend isn't bad either.

Unfortunately, my time with Ted is cut short by the very force that allows it. With the Reaping in just an hour, I take it upon myself to say goodbye to my friend and walk myself home in an attempt to get ready. As much as I'd like to spend more time together, since we're always busy due to work and family, I know that getting ready for the Reaping takes precedence, so I begrudgingly leave.

I take the walk home as an opportunity to just think. Not about anything specific, just whatever comes into my head. It's always been calming for me, and a part of my subconscious has always led me to just trailing away on various thoughts just to myself. That's always been what sets me apart from Ted. While we were both introverts, especially growing up, everyone was always shocked that we weren't friends from the get-go, but as I always told myself and everyone else, I was quiet and thoughtful, whereas Ted was quiet and sullen. Even still, we related to each other because we were both seen as the weird kids that should be avoided at all costs. Strange what brings people together.

I get home in a reasonable amount of time, since Ted and I don't live too far away, and as soon as I've walked in the door, I'm greeted by the Welcome Wagon that is my little sister, Nina. Since she's only 7, she doesn't really get the concept of the Hunger Games, so she's as cheerful on Reaping Day as she would be if it was her birthday. Upon my entrance, she grabs hold of my legs and smiles up at me from under her eyelashes.

"How was your play date?" she asks, voice muffled from her face being buried in my leg.

"It wasn't a play date, Nina," I say lightheartedly, prying her off of my leg.

"Was it a business meeting?" she asks. "Daddy has lots of business meetings."

"I was just hanging out with Ted," I say, resisting a laugh. "Remember Ted?"

"Teddy!" she exclaims. "I like Teddy!"

"I like Teddy too," I say. "Where's mom and dad?"

"Eating lunch," she says. "I'm not there because I finished early so I could wait for you."

"Well why don't you eat more," I say. "I need to go get dressed for later."

With a final grin, Nina runs merrily back into the common area while I go the opposite direction into my bedroom. Our house is pretty basic- three small bedrooms, the largest of which is taken by my parents, the smallest of which is occupied by Nina, and a bathroom off of the common area, which consists of a couch, a small television, an old wooden table with four chairs, a stove, a sink and a refrigerator with some cabinets.

Once I'm in my room, I go to the small trunk at the foot of my bed which holds my clothes. Checking to make sure the blinds are closed, I pull out my designated Reaping clothes; nothing too special, just a button down shirt over the t-shirt I wore today with some shorts. Once dressed, I glance around my room until my eyes land on the friendship bracelet that Ted made me when we started being friends- my just-in-case token since I was 14.

I walk out of my room, closing the door softly behind me. I hear the sound of silverware scraping against plates in the common area, and I know that my parents and sister are still eating. Once I'm in the room, I see them eating something that looks to be made from tessera grain. There's some left in a pot on the stove, so I help myself to it, and sit down to eat with them. There's no conversation, because in my family, meal time has always been a time for just eating, not socializing.

Before I can finish my meal, the bell goes off, signalling that the Reaping will begin in a half hour. The bell will go off at a different time depending on your distance to the Square, to ensure everyone has enough time to get to the Reaping. The further away you live, the earlier the bell goes off. Sighing, my mother twists up her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and collects our plates, stacking them up and placing them in the sink.

"I'll worry about them when we get back," she says. "We can't be late. Nina, grab your jacket, it's chilly."

Once Nina gets her jacket and shoes on, the four of us set out the door on our way to the Square. More than once, we have to tell Nina to stop skipping, because it's a serious day, but she only stops for a few minutes before starting up again. Eventually, I kneel down and let her climb on my back, carrying her the rest of the way.

Once we reach the Square, I put her down, and she runs into the "Spectators" section, followed by my mother who chases after her. I stand with my father in a few seconds of thick silence before he claps me on the shoulder.

"Good luck," he says with a grimace.

I return with a sort of half smile, and he goes after my mother and sister. I get into the ever growing line of teenagers waiting for their fingers to be pricked, and then to be herded into our sections. I wait for about ten minutes, and once the Peacekeeper takes my blood and states my name, I walk to the 17-year-old section and wait.

* * *

The Suzuki Residence, June 16th, 1:00 pm

 **Alayne Suzuki (16) POV**

 **District 6 female  
**

"There's still almost two hours until we have to leave for the Reaping," I say. "What do you guys wanna do while we wait?"

"Hide and seek?" my friend, Lizzie suggests. Lizzie is easily the nicest person I know, and it doesn't surprise me that she would suggest something like hide and seek.

"We're not little kids anymore, Liz," says Jake. I knew he'd shut that idea down. He likes to live a bit more recklessly than the rest of us; since his uncle is the Head Peacekeeper, he has the least to lose out of all of us, so if he does something stupid, he's the least likely to be punished. "How about truth or dare, or never have I ever?"

"I don't know," Erin says. "Don't games like that usually make people say things they don't mean to say?"

"What, do you have something to hide?" Jake asks, jokingly.

"No!" she protests, her face flushing. "It's just... It's not my type of game, you know?"

"Erin, it's not a big deal, it's-" Jake is cut off by Miles.

"If it's not something you want to play, Erin, we're not going to make you play it," he says. "Do we have any other ideas?"

"Alayne!" a voice calls. "Alaaayne!"

"Is that your sister?" Jake asks.

"Probably," I say, smiling. "She should go away soon enough, it'll be fine."

It's not that I have a bad relationship with Lynn- in fact, I love her to pieces, along with our older sister Hana, who's 19. It's just that since I'm two years older than Lynn, she's always trying to hang out with my friends and I, and sometimes, I just need a break from her. I see her all day at home and at school, and I just need time to myself, or with my friends.

" _Alayne!"_

Sighing, I respond "Yeah, Lynn?"

"Mom says you need to come get ready for the Reaping!" she calls. "And your friends need to leave _right now_!"

I smile apologetically to my friends.

"Sorry, guys," I say. "We'll hang out after the Reaping, right?"

"Of course," Miles says.

"See you then," says Erin, as she picks up her bag. "I should probably go get ready anyway."

My friends disperse, and I follow Lynn into the house to get ready for the Reaping. Once we get into the house, we separate from each other. I've always been happy that everyone in our family gets their own room- especially since I know that me being a middle child would doom me to sharing a room with either Hana or Lynn, and I definitely need my space from them sometimes.

I walk into my room, and my first instinct is to flop down onto my bed and shut my eyes, but I know that if I lie down, I'll never want to get back up, so I heave a sigh and walk over to my closet. After some careful decision, I select a turquoise dress that falls to my knees, pairing it with some ballet flats.

Since I have some time before the Reaping, and since I already ate, I sit down at my small vanity table and twist my hair into a knot at the top of my head, pinning back the front sections with a shimmering silver and turquoise hair clip that my family pitched in to buy me for my 16th birthday. I shake my head from side to side a few times to make sure everything is secure, and when I find that it is, I sweep on a touch of blush and mascara, just because it's a special occasion.

Once I'm done, I go downstairs to see my parents and Hana sat in the living room around the television, watching some Capitol news show anchored by Magnus Griffin, who replaced Severa Eta after she committed suicide.

"He's pretty cute," Lynn muses as she wanders lazily in the room.

"And extremely gay," says Hana, with a bit of a hair flip.

"Hana!" our mom exclaims.

"How do you know?" I ask, perching myself on the side of the couch.

"Because I know these things," she says with a shrug. "Trust me, it'll come out that he's coming out."

"I hate you," Lynn says, laughing.

Before our parents can scold Hana more for making assumptions, the bell goes off for the Reaping, and our happy demeanor immediately shifts. Wordlessly, we shut off the lights and walk out of the house together, me, Lynn and Hana walking a few steps in front of our parents.

"Hana..." Lynn starts.

"You're not going to be Reaped, Lynn," Hana says, sounding slightly exasperated.

"How do you know?" I ask, meekly.

"Because I lasted all seven years without being Reaped," she says. "And I took tessera. Neither of you did. If I can do it, so can you."

"But-!"

"No buts!" she says. "I believe in you."

We walk in silence the rest of the way to the Square. Once we get there, Hana gives Lynn and I a sad smile before walking our parents to the edges where family stands. Since Hana's 19, last year was her last year of eligibility, but I have two more after this, and Lynn has 4. We wait in line together for the Peacekeeper to take our blood, and once she does, I walk Lynn to the 14-year-old section, then walk by myself to the rest of the 16-year-olds. I immediately find Erin, and the two of us stand together in silence until District 6's escort, Celeste mounts the stage, looking slightly off-kilter, as usual.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages!" Celeste sings out. "Welcome to the Reaping for the 227th Hunger Games! Gosh, I absolutely love this time of year, don't you? Everything is so festive and bright!"

She looks at the overcast sky and sighs slightly.

"Anyway! Let's get on with the Reaping, shall we? I know all of you are just as excited as I am to know who will be representing your District. As usual, ladies will be first." She crosses painfully slowly to the Reaping bowl on her left side, digging around for a moment before deciding on a slip. She opens it next to the Reaping ball, reads it, and squeals in delight before migrating back to the microphone. "This year's female tribute is Alayne Suzuki!"

It's... Me? Like, _me_ me? I feel the wind get knocked out of me, and brush a few tears from my eyes as I shakily walk forward.

"Alayne!" a voice calls. I spin around and see Hana struggling against Peacekeepers, my dad just behind her. "Alayne!"

Biting my lip and shutting my eyes, I shake my head at them. What's done is done. I'm going into the Games, and I don't want them to be hurt because of it. I walk up to the stage and clasp my hands together behind my back, trying desperately to keep myself grounded. This is real. I'm going into the Games. Okay.

I'm vaguely aware of a male tribute being called- Brian Spencer, Celeste says. A skinny guy from the section in front of mine stumbles out of his section with a nervous smile on his face. Once he climbs up the stairs to the stage, he reaches forward and shakes my hand, his mouth set in a line by now.

"District 6, your tributes, Alayne Suzuki and Brian Spencer," Celeste says through the ringing in my ears. "Tributes, good luck. And may the odds be ever in your favor."

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Brian Spencer (17) POV**

 **District 6 male**

Reaping. Justice Building. Train. Chariot. Training. Games. Then what? What happens after that? If I die, what happens? But what happens if I don't die? If I... Win? Is that even possible? Should I even entertain that thought? Yes, yes of course I should. If I don't believe that I can come out of this alive, nobody will. I need to believe that I can win this. I need to.

As I'm sitting on the plush couch of the waiting room, the door creaks open and my family walks in. Nina grabs my legs, just as she did when I got home earlier. Was that really earlier today? It seems like a lifetime ago.

"Can I come with you?" she asks, looking up at me with wet eyes.

"No, Nina, this is just for me," I say, gently. I wasn't prepared for this, and I really hope she doesn't ask any questions, because I'll have no clue how to answer them.

"Can I come with you next time?" she asks.

I hesitate, looking at my parents. My mother looks about ready to burst into tears, while my father just looks stoic, and gives me a slight nod.

"Sure," I say. "Next time."

My dad clears his throat, and Nina slowly lets go of me. He comes over to me and envelops me in a hug.

"You can do it, Brian," he says into my shoulder. "Make us proud."

He lets go, and I nod at him. Mom looks at me from the door sadly.

"Do you have a token?" she asks. I flash my bracelet at her, and she smiles. "Good. I saw Ted outside. He's waiting to see you."

"I'll miss you guys," I say, my voice cracking.

"We'll miss you too," Dad says.

A Peacekeeper comes in to collect my family, and they leave without being asked, so as not to start a scene. Once they leave, Ted comes in, looking at me, then averting his eyes.

"I can't believe it's you," he says, distantly.

"Me neither," I respond in a similar tone. "It's just..."

"I get what you mean," he says.

With nothing else to talk about, Ted spends the last of his time just sitting quietly next to me, just as we've been doing for years.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Alayne Suzuki (16) POV**

 **District 6 female**

This can't be happening. This absolutely cannot be happening. I'm not really sitting in the Justice Building waiting to be brought to the Capitol for the James. No. Just no. I'll wake up tomorrow morning, on the day of the actual Reaping, and I'll tell Hana and Lynn about the dream, and we'll laugh about how ridiculous it is that I could ever be Reaped. Thinking this makes me calm down some and I'm able to relax as I sink into the chair.

No. I need to face facts now. I've been Reaped, and I just need to run that through my mind. I need to accept it in order for me to get anywhere.

Once I come to this realization, my family walks in; Mom, Dad, Hana and Lynn.

"We believe in you," Mom says.

"You can come home, Alayne," Lynn says.

"You just have to try," Dad says.

"Really, really try," Hana says.

"Thanks, guys," I say. "I'll try, you know I will. I'm just nervous about the competition. The Careers are just..."

"Do you need a token?" Mom asks, digging around her purse. "I'm sure I can find something..."

"I have my hair clip," I say. "I'll be fine, don't worry about it."

"Be sure to make alliances," Hana says. "You're super sweet, everyone will-"

Before she can finish her sentence, a Peacekeeper comes in to escort my family out of the room. I didn't even get to say goodbye. I blink back tears as they're replaced with my friends.

"Alayne-"

"We're so-"

"It's just-"

"It's fine," I say, sitting on the floor. "Everything happens for a reason, I'll be fine."

"Are you scared?" Jake asks. I nod in return. "Well don't be. You have everything in you to win, we all know you do."

I look around the room, and before I can say anything, they're taken from me too.

* * *

 **See. I. Um. Stop interrogating me, what am I, a criminal? Just... Just... Okay? Just... Okay?**

 **Thanks much-ly to Galactic Fairydust for Alayne and AgentWriter for Brian!**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Alayne or Brian?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	10. When Feelings Collide

_"Falling in love with love is falling for make believe."  
_ -Cinderella

* * *

The Training Center, Floor 5, June 17th, 11:30 pm

 **Alicia Schripe (17) Mentor POV**

 **Victor of the 225th Hunger Games**

After the tribute parade, Fenton and I sat together on the couch in the living area of my floor of the training center. He's sitting on the right side of the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table while I'm taking up far more room than necessary, sprawled completely across the couch with my feet in his lap. There's some documentary about wild animals that existed before the Dark Days playing on the TV, but neither of us is paying much attention to it, choosing instead to sit in comfortable silence. Over the past couple of months since pretending to be dating, we've gotten to be really good friends. He's been hanging out with Ross a lot lately, and they've been getting along pretty well.

I halfheartedly gaze at the TV to see a small brown animal with a long, flat tail and a black bill. It splashes around in a pool of clear, glittering water, and the camera cuts to a white and brown speckled egg hatching. Out comes a slightly slimy and much smaller version of the animal that must have laid the egg.

"What even is that?" I ask Fenton.

"A platypus," he responds, clearly having paid more attention that I was. "One of the only mammals in the world that could lay eggs."

"What's the other mammals?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Some anteater or porcupine or something," he says, furrowing his brow. "I can't remember the name of it."

"Well, I hate it, whatever it is," I say, meeting his eye.

"Why?" he asks.

"I don't know, I just do." The camera cuts to a medium sized cat; tan with dark spots like a leopard and stripes like a tiger. "Oh my God, Fenton, look at that cat!"

"Leesh, that's an ocelot," he says, smiling. "You can't have one."

"Why?" I ask, outraged.

"Because they can grow to be almost 40 pounds, they're completely carnivorous and live to be almost 10. You can't have an ocelot."

"I don't care, I want one."

I adjust my body so that my feet are tucked up next to me, and I lay my head on Fenton's chest. He slings his arm around me in a completely platonic way, and we sit like that for another hour until the documentary is done. It finishes some time before one in the morning, and when it does, he gets up from the couch and stretches. He says goodbye, saying that he needs to get back to his tributes on his floor. He bends down and kisses me on the cheek, and I smile up at him.

"Hey Fenton?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you buy me an ocelot?"

"Night Alicia."

"Night Fenton."

He walks out, closing the door softly behind him, so as to not wake up Clio, Elijah or any of the others. In his absence, I know that I should go to my room and sleep for the net couple of hours, because training starts tomorrow, but I can't bring myself to get up off the couch. I lay back down, resting my head on the arm of the couch and watching a rerun of an old reality TV show that ended a few years ago. I think about Fenton while half listening to what's going on in the show. He's been a better friend to me than I can remember anyone being since I won the Games, and I'm grateful for him. At the same time, I can't tell exactly what my feelings for him are. It's always been a problem for me, separating platonic feelings from romantic ones. I've known him for almost a year, and I still have trouble figuring out exactly what I want out of our relationship.

I know in my heart though that I can't expect him to do anything. There was a girl that he liked before he went into the Games who he's now mentoring, and he developed feelings for one of his allies when he was in the Games last year. So I know that no matter my feelings for him, I can't expect anything until he figures out his feelings for Terry and Elizabeth. And even if nothing arises romantically, I'll be forever grateful that I was able to call him my friend.

On the other hand, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if something romantic became of our relationship. I mean, he's already pretending to be the father of my child, so if anything, the two of us having a real relationship would be beneficial for everyone, especially Ross. How great it would be if his parents grew up really loving each other. More than anything in the world, I want him to grow up with a normal family- no fear of the Hunger Games or which parent he's staying with that day. I just want him to be happy, and I would do anything to achieve that.

* * *

 **We interrupt your regularly scheduled Reapings to bring you some fluff. Don't think that the time skip means that the Reapings won't be finished, because the next chapter will be District 7.**

 **This is the shortest chapter I plan on ever uploading to this story- the shortest by a long shot. I just wanted to get something out to you guys after so long.**

 **Thank you all for being patient. It means a lot.**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Did you miss me? (Haha)**

 **2) Shipping Fenton with anyone? Alicia? Terry? Holding out for Elizabeth?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	11. District 7 Reaping

_Inner beauty should be the most important part of improving oneself.  
_ -Priscilla Presley

* * *

The Butchery, June 16th, 9:00 am

 **Lydia Collins (18) POV**

 **District 7 female**

I try not to think about what's going on outside of my house. My father and I have an agreement- he does the slaughtering, another employee named John does the skinning and the gutting, and I do the sectioning. When I was younger, my father always told me that I would have to work in the butchery with him, and it was always something I dreaded. I never wanted to turn 14, because that's when I'd have to start killing animals. Thankfully, I never had to. My parents always knew about my love for animals, but because they wouldn't have to pay me to work for them, I still had to work. That's why we have the agreement that we have- they don't want to force me into killing an animal.

Even as a little kid, I enjoyed the company of animals more than I liked the company of people. Animals never go behind your back or talk about you. They're there for you when no one else is, and will love you unconditionally. When I was younger, I would sneak out to where the animals were and just stay with them, apologizing for their fate and promising them it would be okay.

John brings me a hen, plucked completely of her feathers, head cut off and innards pulled out. Pursing my lips, I grab my knife and begin to section off the breasts, legs, wings and thighs. When the better quality meat is sectioned off and put into labeled containers, I begin to cut off the neck, tail and other cuts that will be cheaper. Lastly, I strip the bones and put the meat scraps in a bucket that will go in tonight's dinner, and put the bones in a bucket for stock.

I go into the back to see if there's anymore animals coming my way, and find out that it was a short day due to the Reaping. Mentally exhausted, I retire upstairs to get ready for the Reaping. I go into the bathroom and wash my face. I showered last night, so I don't really feel the need to shower again because I wasn't really active or dirty, so I just walk into my room and shut the door. I sit on my bed and grab a brush from my night table, brushing through my straight brown hair until the brush goes through without a problem. I contemplate braiding it before deciding to just leave it down. I take off my brown T-shirt and jeans that I was wearing while sectioning the chicken and cross to my closet, pulling out a white dress with a blue sash on it. I reluctantly pull it on, struggling to zip it up since it's behind me. Eventually, I get it to work, so I step into a pair of blue ballet flats. Lastly, I put on a leather bracelet that my best friend Elliot gave me and walk downstairs to make some food.

I thunder down the stairs and walk into the kitchen, expecting to see my parents there. Instead it's just my mother, sitting at the table, eating a bowl of tessera grain while reading the newspaper. She smiles up at me, then goes back to reading.

"You look nice, dear," she says, scooping up another spoonful of grain. My mother has always been quite cold to me, wishing for a daintier daughter; one with less muscular arms, one that enjoyed dressing up, one that aspired to be a housewife. Instead, she got stuck with me, which she never failed to remind me.

"Thank you," I say. I walk to the cupboard and grab a bowl, then go to the stove and scoop the rest of the grain into my bowl. I open the fridge and grab the container of wild berries collected from a park nearby and drop some into my breakfast. I sit down at the table with my mom, reaching blindly for a section of her newspaper. My eyes dart over the words without really reading them, and before too long, my food is gone.

"I'm gonna go to Elliot's house," I say. "Me, him and Maddie are gonna hang out before the Reaping."

"Alright," she says. "Make sure you come right home after the ceremony. Your dad needs you to do some more work."

"Will do," I say.

I walk out of the kitchen door and down the street to Elliot's house. He doesn't live far away, so it doesn't take long to get to his house, but when I do, I find that Maddie is already there, the two of them sitting together in Elliot's lawn. I've always been a bit jealous of her. Maddie's mother is my father's cousin, and we're only two months apart, so the two of us have always been together- playing together as kids and hanging out as we got older. Maddie seems to be everything that my mother wishes I was- confident, beautiful and polite. I always spent half of my time either with her or Elliot, so I thought it would be a good idea to introduce the two of them, hoping they'd be friends so we could all hang out together, but these days, it seems like the would rather hang out with each other than with me- not a good feeling from your second cousin and the boy you have a crush on.

"Hey Lydia!" Maddie calls.

I smile, and start moving more quickly to get to them. "Hi guys!"

"We were just talking about the Reaping," Elliot says. "Are you nervous?"

"Not really," I say, adjusting my dress. "It's not super likely that either of you will get Reaped."

"You're not nervous for yourself?" Maddie asks, furrowing her brow.

"I would do fine in the Games," I joke, cracking a smile. "You two need all the help you can get."

The two let out a laugh that gradually fades, and suddenly, we're all slightly worried.

"What if-" I begin.

"Don't," Elliot says.

"But what if one-"

"Lydia, it'll be fine," he says. "It's our last year of eligibility. After this, we're safe."

"Elliot's right," Maddie says. "We're all gonna be okay."

* * *

The Burt Residence, June 16th, 12:45 pm

 **Edison Burt (12) POV**

 **District 7 male**

"Mom, can I go for a walk?" I call into the kitchen. My mother is cutting up fruit to have with our tessera grain- a special breakfast for Reaping Day. Despite this, I'm eager to get out of the house. It's not that I particularly like the outdoors, it's just that the stuffiness of the house combined with the most intolerable air of depression and anxiety that the day brings makes sitting still insufferable.

"I don't know," she says, turning around, raising an eyebrow. " _Can_ you?"

"Yes, Mother, I can," I begin, looking up to meet her eye. My mother isn't all that tall, but I'm quite short, making her taller than me, much to my dismay. "And since you understood my intended meaning perfectly, I should add that colloquial irregularities are common in any form of speech. Your being particular over the distinction between _can_ and _may_ is purely pedantic, and arguably pretentious."

A confused, flustered look crosses her face, and I know I've won.

"Whatever," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "Be back before the Reaping."

"I make no promises," I say, grabbing my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder.

"Back before the Reaping or you're grounded," she says, sounding more serious.

"Alright," I say, rolling my eyes once my back is turned. She won't go through with it.

Exiting the kitchen with a backpack slung over my shoulder, I walk through the living room to the front door. I turn the rusted doorknob all the way around and push the heavy wooden door open with my hip. Immediately once I walk outside, the sun is blindingly bright. Since the Reaping starts relatively soon, I don't have much time to do anything, so I just start walking at a lazy pace to the Square, glancing over my shoulder every so often to make sure my parents or brother, Rick aren't following me. They'd make me go home. The longer I'm outside, the more the sun begins to hurt my eyes, and for a minute, I try walking with my eyes shut, just keeping one foot in front of the other and trying my best to stay on the narrow dirt path.

Suddenly, I bump into something and stagger backwards, opening my eyes to reveal the large form of Saunder Lewis, a muscular fourteen-year-old who worked in the lumberyard. It seems that his sole purpose in life is making me miserable, but I've accepted that by now, and I can deal with it for the most part. Behind him stands his two close friends, Thom and Jastin.

"Whatcha doin' there, little guy?" Saunder asks, sneering down at me menacingly.

Wordlessly, I push past him. I know that if it came to a physical altercation, he could break me in half without even trying. In an argument, I would have the upper hand if he wasn't so intellectually inferior- I've tried on many occasions to best him in a verbal standoff, but to no avail, as he didn't understand anything I had said. Thus, so as to not waste my time nor his, I try to leave.

"Where are you going?" Jastin asks with mock sympathy. "Gotta help your idiot brother with his math homework?"

"Don't talk about my brother like that," I manage, weakly.

"Yeah, Jastin," Saunder says. "Don't make fun of Rick like that. It's a lot of work to learn what two plus two is."

At this point, I'm upset. It's not that I'm especially close with my family, but I still don't like it when people make them the butt of their jokes, just because I'm different from them. I search my mind for a comeback, but it comes up empty. There's not much I can think of in defense of my brother, because he really isn't the smartest guy in the world.

"I guess you'd know from experience, wouldn't you Saunder?" a girl's voice says. I look around for her- Willa Harvis, my next door neighbor. A girl of 13, she merely tolerates me, finding me about as insufferable as everyone else does, but she manages to put up with me, making her more of a friend than anyone else I've ever talked to. She walks up from behind me, quickly moving to stand in front of me to face Saunder, Thom and Jastin. "Why don't y'all just go home? If any of the three of you gets chosen today, do you really want it to be your legacy that you were mean to kids?"

Rolling their eyes and muttering something unintelligible, the three of them walk off, shooting venomous glares over their shoulders every so often. Once they round a corner and leave our sight, Willa turns to me.

"You really need to learn how to fend for yourself, Edison," she says, head cocked to the side and a hand on her hip. "I'm not always going to be there to protect you."

"Yeah, yeah," I say, adjusting the strap of my bag. "No need to clamor on. Wanna get to the Square early and hang out?"

"Sure," she says. We walk in silence for a few minutes before she breaks it. "You know, maybe if you tried to fit in more, I wouldn't need to get you out of these... Situations."

"I know," I say. We walk quietly for the rest of the way, and because we're not in much of a rush, we end up at the Square later than expected. To pass the time, I decide to ask her about the Games. "Who do you think will get Reaped?"

"Probably older kids with lots of tessera," she says thoughtfully. "They're the most likely. Unless someone volunteers, but I doubt that will happen."

"I don't think the people with more slips have that much more of a chance to get Reaped than the rest of us," I say. "There's so many names in that bowl that having a few extra say your name won't really make that much of a difference."

"I guess you're right," she says, pursing her lips. "I never really thought of it like that. Maybe I'll take out more tessera next year. You know, since it doesn't really make a difference."

"Oh, I definitely won't," I say, cautiously. "Even though it doesn't make much of a difference, I still want to greatly minimize my chances of being Reaped."

"Will you make up your mind please?" she asks.

"My mind is made up," I say. "It doesn't really make a difference, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do it."

"Fine," she says, crossing her arms. For the remaining time before the Reaping actually starts, we stand together in silence until Willa goes to her appropriate section. I wait in my section alone, the first 12-year-old boy in the Square, waiting for it to be filled with people I know from school. After what seems like an eternity, Lola Redpath steps onto the stage, her hair split into two braids; one teal, the other light pink. Her body is covered in various tattoos of her favorite mutts from the previous Games. I notice that since this time last year, she's added a small tattoo of a Phoenix onto her upper left arm. She dons a bright green crop top, a hot pink tutu and blue heels, looking like a demented ballerina.

"Welcome, welcome, citizens of District 7 to the 227th annual Hunger Games," she says, smiling widely to show off her straight, pearly white teeth. "Last year's tributes didn't do all that well, so let's hope that our tributes this year do a bit better, yes? Now, as usual, we'll start with the ladies."

Lola wobbles to the female Reaping bowl and shuffles the slips around a bit before setting on one. She plucks it out of the bowl, unraveling it as she walks back to the microphone. She takes a deep breath before calling out "Lydia Collins!"

Zombie-like, a girl walks out of the 18-year-old section, her face stark white, her eyes focused on something that isn't there. She steps onto the stage, her white dress blowing around her knees in the wind in the same motion that her straight brown hair blows around her face, feet planted firmly on the ground and staring straight ahead. Lola asks for volunteers, and Lydia's brown eyes dart around the crowd to no avail. No one volunteers, and Lola moves onto the boys.

"Edison Burt!"

How was my name called?! I was one slip out of the entire District. The statistics... It makes no sense! A voice in my head tells me to run, so that's exactly what I do. I walk into the aisle calmly before turning on a dime and sprinting away. As I get to the back of the Square, trying to leave the way I came, two Peacekeepers grab my arms and lift me up, carrying me to the stage. They drop me at the stairs and I climb them, silent tears running down my face, finally accepting my fate. The only thing I have going for me is my intelligence, and that would get me virtually nowhere in the arena. Not to mention I'm only 12, which is basically synonymous with Bloodbath. Lola asks for volunteers, and just like with Lydia, no one steps forward.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the 227th Hunger Games!" Lola yells into the microphone. "Lydia Collins and Edison Burt. Tributes, good luck. And may the odds be ever in your favor."

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Lydia Collins (18) POV**

 **District 7 female**

As soon as I get off the stage and into the Justice Building, my eyes flood with tears, and it's impossible to hold them back. I let them run down my face as a Peacekeeper takes me into a room. He pushes me through the door and closes it behind me, and for a while, I'm alone with my thoughts. My knees give out, and I fall onto the ground, sitting with my head in my hands and shaking.

Doomed. I'm seriously doomed. I was just joking around earlier; there's no way I can actually make it out of the arena in one piece. There's Career tributes, people who have trained their entire lives to be in the Games. Girls from District 1 who don't need any skills, and can win off of their looks alone. Boys from District 2 that can kill someone twenty ways without a weapon. People from District 4 with a furious vengeance to prove that they're not the weakest Career District. And then there's me. Average in every way, shape and form, possessing none of the abilities necessary to win the Games. Doomed.

The door creaks open and I quickly sit up, propping myself up on a chair. My parents both come in, my father close to tears and my mother as stony-faced as ever. I've always had a better relationship with my father than my mother, because he accepted me for who I was rather than trying to change me; to mold me into someone I wasn't. They both wish me well, offering me hugs and leaving without a fight when they're told to.

"Make me proud, Lydia," Dad says on his way out. "You can win this. I know you can."

"I love you!" I call.

"I love you too!"

Elliot and Maddie walk in next, and upon seeing each other, the three of us all burst into tears. Rather than speaking, because we all know it won't make it better- none of us are the best conversationalists in hard times- we all just sit on the couch, arms wrapped around each other, quietly crying into one another's chests. It's one of my saddest moments, but if this is going to be my last moment in District 7, I'm glad it's being spent with my best friends in the world. When they've been in there for a while, I look at Elliot.

"I love you," I say, holding his gaze.

"I love you too," he says, without missing a beat. I can tell immediately that we meant it in completely different ways, and that even after years of being completely in love with him, he still doesn't realize my discontent with being just friends. He hugs me again, and a Peacekeeper comes in, taking them both away.

Then, I'm alone.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Edison Burt (12) POV**

 **District 7 male**

All at once, it feels like everything I know was taken away from me. My world shattered, and the life sucked out of me. I sit in the Justice Building on a plush velvet armchair, resting my elbows on my knees and waiting for my family to come visit me. It takes a long time, and just as I'm sure that I'll have no visitors, they stop in. It's not a particularly sentimental or melancholy get together, as we all just hang around in our separate corners not speaking until a Peacekeeper takes them away. I'm wished good luck, then I'm left alone.

I'm alone for so long that I'm sure that it's because Lydia has more visitors than I do, and that I just need to wait for all of hers to leave. That is, until Willa comes in.

"I brought you this," she says, thrusting a sheet of paper folded into eighths into my hands. I unfold it, and see an image of myself in a space suit on the moon, surrounded by scientific equipment. Willa is there as well, perched on a space rock looking bored while I examine the surface.

 _"When I'm older, I'm gonna go to the moon," I tell Willa. I was seven, and it was the first time we played together. "I'm gonna go and make lots of scientific discoveries there, and be safe from everything, because President Baxwell doesn't rule the moon. You can come too, if you want."_

"Did you draw this?" I ask her, glancing down at the paper, then back up to meet her eye. She nods. "I didn't know..."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Edison," she says, turning around. "Maybe you'd know more if you cared to listen more than you talk."

With that, she leaves; leaves me sitting there, contemplating my entire life. The door opens again, and before I can think of who might be visiting me, it's Lola with Lydia in tow, telling me to board the train.

* * *

 **Told you it would pick back up in the summer.**

 **Huge thank you to minhosgirl for Lydia and Author of Ice and Fire for Edison!**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Lydia or Edison?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	12. District 8 Reaping

_Your problems are the worst ones because they're yours_  
-Unknown

* * *

Behind the Head Peacekeeper's House, June 16th, 4:30 am

 **Calico Jones (16) POV**

 **District 8 female**

"Alright, now get out before anyone sees you," the Head Peacekeeper says, thrusting a wad of bills into my hands. A twig breaks, and he looks over his shoulder frantically, only to realize that it was only a rat. I roll my eyes, taking the money from him and counting it. I wince.

"You shorted me," I say, looking up at him from below my eyelashes.

"'Scuse me?" he asks, gruffly.

"We agreed on $150," I say, holding his gaze. "This is $100."

"Can you just be happy I gave you that much and leave my house?" he says, closing the door on me. No way in hell I'm accepting that, I quickly shove my foot in the door, surely breaking a toe in the process.

"We agreed on $150, and I'm not leaving without the rest of it," I say. "It's not that big of a deal for you- you just need to give me $50. For what you must make, that's nothing. For what I make, it's everything."

"I've got places to be, little girl," he sneers. "Now get off my property before I report you for prostitution."

"If I go down, you go down with me," I say. "Give me what you owe me, or I'll report you."

"I could kill you" is his feeble last attempt.

"I welcome it. Besides, we both know that that threat's as empty as your head."

"And your heart," he says, throwing me the last $50. "Get out of my sight."

As soon as I get the last of my money, I turn around and walk away quickly, stumbling in my heels and praying my dress didn't ride up. You'd think after several years of doing this, it would become easier. You'd think I would get used to it. You'd think that things that used to be hard wouldn't be hard anymore- no pun intended. Well, it doesn't, and I'm not, and they are. At the age of thirteen, I thought selling my body would get easier, but it doesn't. It just doesn't, no matter how hard I try to make it.

This early in the morning, the fog that usually clings around the air of District 8 is merely floating just above the ground, chilling my ankles and nothing else. I shiver slightly, wishing that my dress covered more, but knowing that that would defeat the purpose of it. In my peripheral vision, I see a faint orange glow and find myself drawn to it, walking slowly, almost as if to not to disturb it, like a moth to a flame. When I get closer to it, I see three men, homeless by the looks of them, huddled around a garbage can fire, passing around a paper bag with a bottle of some hard liquor in it. They don't notice me, so when I approach them from behind, I clear my throat.

"Lady of the night?" one of them asks sarcastically, smiling a big toothless grin.

"No, I'm a quantum physicist," I answer, just as sarcastically. "What's in the bottle?"

"Why, are you a Peacekeeper?" another one asks.

"No, I told you, I'm a quantum physicist," I say. "I don't understand what you don't understand about that."

"It's rum," the first finally says, extending the bottle to me. Reluctantly, I take the bottle, dreading the sickly sweet taste, but too poor to be picky. I take a few swigs from the bottle, enjoying the feeling of the drink warming my insides before handing it back.

"Thanks," I say, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. Before I go, I remove a cigarette from my bra, place it between my teeth and lean over the fire, lighting the cigarette as well as allowing the men a look at my ass. "Y'all let me know if you need anything, alright?"

"Yes ma'am," Toothless says.

With my cigarette lit, I walk away, unsure of where I'm going, because, like them, I don't have a place to call home. Sure, I have my parents' house, but my relationship with the two of them is bad enough where I don't want to go there if I don't have to. I haven't been to their house in a few days, but with the realization that today's the day of the Reaping, I realize that I ought to visit them, if just for the five minutes it'll take for me to change my clothes and for them to wish me luck, if they even care to.

The walk home isn't a long one, but between dreading my homecoming and the Reaping, it seems to take forever. When I finally reach the beginning of one of the nicer streets in the District, thanks to my mom being a CEO or some shit, I flick my cigarette onto the ground and trudge to the fourth house on the right. Once I get to the door, I grab the shiny brass doorknob, gleaming against the pristine white door, give it a twist and find it thankfully unlocked.

The clock on the stove reads 5:48, meaning that my anally punctual parents will be awake in exactly 12 minutes- Mother to review her business plans and Father to write. When I was younger, I looked up to him, because he was always optimistic that his big break was just around the corner, and that he just needed to keep working harder. Now, I think he's just stupid.

Deciding to use these twelve minutes to my advantage, I crash over to my room, half worried that I'll wake my parents and have to face them. The floorboards of the stairs creak under my heels and I hear my dad yawn.

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._

I practically leap into my room, close the door softly and flick on my light, squinting at the sudden brightness. With my eyes nearly closed, I go across the room to my pile of dirty clothes, grabbing a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, a burgundy tank top and the oversize denim jacket that's always on, unless I have to look "sexy." I pull my clothes on and swap out my heels for a pair of worn black sneakers. Once I'm dressed, I tuck the money I made under my pillow, along with the loose cigarettes from my bra.

I regard myself in the mirror that rests above my desk, knowing that no matter how little I care about my own appearance, I should do something about myself. I finger comb my hair slightly, and work whatever I can into a braid, then use my fingers apply more dark eye makeup. Fine. Whatever. Good enough. I shove a pack of cigarettes and my lighter into my jacket pocket, blow my bangs off my face and leave my room, quite literally bumping into my mother on the way out.

"Shit," I mutter.

"Language," she warns as if I'm a child.

"Like I care," I say under my breath.

"Where have you been?" she asks, half concerned and half mad. I shrug. "Answer me!"

"The Head Peacekeeper's house," I say. Her concerned face takes a look of pure confusion.

"What were you doing there?" she asks. There's a lot my parents know- the smoking, the drinking, the drugs- but there's a lot I'm not willing to tell them about. Namely, the prostitution. So again, I shrug, pushing past her, heading downstairs for the door. "Where are you going?!"

"Away from here!"

* * *

The Rainier Residence, June 16th, 1:30 pm

 **Conn Rainier (17) POV**

 **District 8 male**

 _The knight slashes his sword once more across the dragon's neck, and it finally falls to the stone ground dead. He climbs back onto his horse and finds himself able to swiftly gallop across the barren field to where the evil prince is waiting, his sword is already drawn with heavy armor covering most of his body. The knight hops off the horse, approaching the prince and-_

"Conn! We have to leave for the Reaping now! It starts in a half hour!"

"Mother, I just got to the good part!" I shout. "The knight just-"

"You can finish writing when we get back from the Reaping, but we need to go now!"

"Fine, I'll be down in a minute."

Glancing longingly in the leather bound notebook where I'm writing my novel, I grab it and carry it down the stairs with me. Writing has been a passion of mine ever since I could remember. When I was younger, I remember asking my parents for books from before the Dark Days. They were hard to get a hold of, but my parents have always had a bit of money, so it wasn't as hard for them as it would be for most other people. When I get to the living room door where my mother is, she snatches it and puts it in her purse.

"They won't let you bring that into your section," she says. "I'll hang onto it and give it back afterward."

"Thanks, mom," I say. The two of us set out of the house together, beginning the short walk to the Square for the Reaping. Since I finished school, I thought I'd be spending more time with my mom, but she's rarely home, so I'm often left to my own devices, writing for hours at a time about brave knights rescuing beautiful princesses in faraway lands. Because she's not around all that much, I've learned to cherish the times when she is at home; since she and Dad got divorced, I haven't seen much of either of them. Dad left Mom for another woman whose name I can't recall, as I stopped seeing my father shortly after the divorce. Mom threw herself into her work. She grew up on the poorer end of the District and always struggled with the fear of losing her newfound money, so she puts in extra hours to make sure she doesn't suddenly go bankrupt. Since she started working nights, she often worked while I slept, and she sleeps while I write. It's a troublesome family dynamic, and though I don't see a whole lot of either of them, I'm grateful for what I have as so many people have less, but that doesn't mean that I don't wish I had more. I understand that things could be worse, but the worse things haven't happened to me yet, so in my mind, this is as bad as it gets.

When we get to the Square, we see my friend Jackson hanging out in a cluster with Sarah and John. He's wearing the watch I got for him. Sarah and John are more Jackson's friends than mine, but we're all still friendly to one another. I wave at them and Jackson smiles slightly while the others glance away and continue talking.

"Conn, why don't you go talk with your friends?"

I may not be the best at reading social cues, but glancing over at the trio, things are already awkward, and I wouldn't want to intensify the awkwardness by joining them. I have enough trouble making friends as it is, I don't need to lose Jackson.

"That's okay," I say. "The Reaping will start shortly, I should get in line."

"Okay," she says, starting to look nervous. "Good luck today."

"Thanks, Mom," I say, stepping into line. Sometimes it's hard to remember that I'm still eligible to be Reaped, and even that this isn't my last Reaping. Since I finished high school early, I haven't been in the typical teenager mindset of worrying about grades and getting a job and being Reaped. There's a strange sense of security knowing that I'll never have to get a job; financially, my parents can support me until they die, and afterward, I'll get a large inheritance. People have said that that makes me sounds stuck up, but I never wanted it to. I can't help the fact that my family has money any more than the others can help that they don't.

I finally reach the front of the line, and the male Peacekeeper roughly grabs my hand and pricks it with a hypodermic needle. It hurts a little, but this isn't the first time I've experienced this, so it's not a huge deal.

"Please make your way to your section based on age group," he barks. "Next!"

I wander into my section with all of the other 17-year-old boys, patiently waiting for the Reaping to start for real. I'm in no hurry for the Reaping to end, because when the Reapings end, the Games start, which is hard for everyone. All too soon, District 8's escort, Vamos Dunbrill saunters up to the stage, clad in a turquoise suit to match his hair, eyebrows, and beard.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Reaping for the 227th Hunger Games!" he calls into the microphone. "I know you're all just as excited as I am, so let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

With a fake looking smile, he walks over to the females' Reaping bowl and draws out a slip. He walks back over to the microphone and unfolds the slip, drawing in a deep breath.

"Calico Jones!"

There's a lull, and a girl from the 16-year-old section walks slowly down the aisle. Her expression is stony, her face completely blank and it's impossible to see how she feels. Is she scared? Nervous? Relieved? I can't tell. As soon as she gets to the stage, she lights a cigarette, blowing the smoke in the general direction of Vamos. He looks at her, disgusted and walks to the males' Reaping bowl, repeating the same process.

When he gets to the microphone, he calls "Conn Rainier!"

A nervous smile spreads across my face and I shakily walk up to the stage, trying to get rid of the unnecessary smile and failing. Why am I smiling? This is not something I'm excited for. I'm more scared than I've ever been, but my nerves have taken control of the muscles in my face and I'm smiling. Once I make my way up the stairs and onto the stage, I wave to no one in particular. What is going on with me?

"Ladies and gentlemen of District 8, your tributes for the 227th Hunger Games. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

Vamos leads Calico and me into the Justice Building, and thus begins the waiting. The waiting that will consume the rest of my time until I either die or win the Games. The rest of my foreseeable future will be spent waiting.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Calico Jones (16) POV**

 **District 8 female**

My parents don't come to visit me. It's not so much that I wanted them to, but I guess I hoped that they would come visit me before I board the train, considering this could be the last time they ever see me. But they don't, and I'm not hurt. They're probably busy with work, and I can't blame them for thinking that money is more important than I am. Okay, maybe I am a little bitter, but can you blame me? I was counting on them to come through, say that they'd miss me or that they knew that I had it in me to win. Even though I didn't. I was counting on them to bring me a token for the arena, but now all I have is the clothes that I'm wearing and the nearly full package of cigarettes in my jacket pocket.

But that could work.

I mean, without cigarettes in the Games, the arena would be even more of a living hell than it already would have been. Withdrawal would be painful; I've tried quitting before. Not to mention, the Gamemakers couldn't possibly think that cigarettes would give me an advantage. What am I going to do, eat them? If anything, they'd make it easier to find and kill me. Lighting one and having the smoke rise would be the equivalent of waving a giant white flag saying "I'm over here! Please kill me!" Death wouldn't be the worst thing. In fact, I welcome it. There's nothing for me to come home to anyway.

I draw the pack out of my pocket and open it, counting how many I have left. 16. Wonderful. I'm sure I can get some in the Capitol, so I won't have to waste my own before the Games even start. Then once I'm in the arena, I can have four a day for four days. I doubt I'll make it any longer than that anyway.

Satisfied, I put the pack back in my jacket pocket and sit down on a wooden chair, elbows resting on my knees. I allow my legs to shake slightly, giving my body something to do while I wait to leave for the train. I still can't believe my parents didn't come. As much as we fight, I really thought they cared about me. I'm their daughter… I can't think about this right now. I need to maintain the cold, numb exterior when I leave. It might not work as well as smiling and waving, but I can't bring myself to be cheerful; I was never good at it.

It dawns on me, however, that there's something I've been good at since I was allowed to call myself a teenager, and as much as I loathe the thought, I know it's my only chance of getting sponsors. I don't want to win, but I do want to know how long I can last in hell, to prepare for when I'm actually there.

I take the jacket off, abandoning it on the floor of the Justice Building waiting room and sliding the pack of cigarettes into my back pocket. I take my hair out of its braid, letting my hair hang loose around my shoulders and use the hair tie to tie up my shirt in the back, exposing my midriff. I look around the room, then walk to the door where a full-length mirror hangs. Regarding my reflection and seeing the empty look in my eyes, my hip bones and collar bones jutting out, I've definitely looked better, but it's enough for the name I've been branded with since I was 13 to fit like a glove.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Conn Rainier (17) POV**

 **District 8 male**

How could this have happened to me? There's nothing special about me, nothing that should have caused me to be Reaped instead of anyone else. I was always just that kid that talked weird, that's the only thing that ever stood out about me. That and my writing. Oh God, my book. Who's going to finish my book if I… Don't make it? Looking at my District partner, I can tell that there's something special about her; something different, just by her facial expressions. Something happened to her to make her cold and distant, and I intend to find out what it is. Maybe I can get her to open up to me. Maybe we could be allies. Not likely, but maybe.

My mother bursts through the door and immediately envelops me into her arms. Hugging her back, I can feel her shaking with tears.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers. "I should have been around more."

"It's okay," I say, breaking the hug. "Everything will be okay. Just like in the books. There's always a happy ending for the main character."

"How do you know that you're the main character?" she asks, looking me in the eye.

"I don't," I admit. "But my death could mean a happy ending for whoever it is."

She nods, and wordlessly hands me the book that she put into her purse just before the Reaping. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it couldn't have been more than an hour.

"In case you feel like writing," she says, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Thank you," I say, accepting the book. She goes to say something, but before she can, a Peacekeeper enters the room and tells my mother that it's time to leave. Mother obeys, not wanting to make a scene and leaves, giving me a fleeting glance before she does.

After my mother left, I thought I wouldn't have more visitors, but I have one more. She… I guess she's my friend. Her name is Kalia. She's older than me and she's a… Well, she goes out when no one else does, and she hangs out with people and they give her money. I give her money sometimes too, but I don't do the same things that other people do with her. I just give her money because she needs it.

"Hey nerd," she says, sitting down on the deep red couch. I sit down next to her, and she looks at me, sighing.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"I'm just gonna miss you, I guess," she says. "I don't really see you winning is all. I mean, you have a better chance than Calico I guess, but-"

"Do you know her?" I ask.

"I'm sorry?"

"My District partner. Calico. Do you know her?"

"Yeah," she says slowly like she's trying to find her words. "Vaguely. We've met. We don't really like each other. A bit of a rivalry."

"Rivalry?"

"We have a lot of the same clients."

"Oh," I say, feeling my face heat up. "So she's a…"

"Yeah," she says. "Like me."

"Oh."

We spend the rest of the time sitting in silence, occasionally glancing at each other but mostly just looking down at the floor. A Peacekeeper eventually walks in, and without him having to say a word, Kalia gets up to leave. As she's standing in the doorway, she turns to face me.

"Good luck in there."

* * *

 **Thank you StellaSlomp and grimbutnotalways for Calico and Conn, respectively!**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Calico or Conn?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **Oh, and guys, you should all totally submit to Thunder and Lightning: The 33rd Annual Hunger Games by IVolunteerAsAuthor and Betttyy. Seriously, it's amazing. It's on the first's account, and I really hope to see some of you guys chilling in the reviews.**

 **Lastly, there's a person floating around whose username is Annabeth-TheTributeThatLved (Lived without an I). Please note that this isn't me. I don't know what caused someone to make a fake account of myself, but I'm glad we caught it when we did.**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	13. District 9 Reaping

**Trigger warning: Mentions of abuse, neglect, depression, anxiety, self-harm, suicide and miscarriage in both characters' POVs. If you think you might be triggered, don't read the chapter. PM me and I'll give you the gist of it. I don't want anyone to be uncomfortable. Please don't say I didn't warn you. Reader discretion advised.**

* * *

 _Don't pity the dead. Pity the living.  
_ -Albus Dumbledore

* * *

The Hopson Residence, June 16th, 12:00 pm

 **Marsellus Hopson (18) POV**

 **District 9 male**

"Marsellus, get inside! You're letting in all the hot air!"

"Sorry, Mom," I say, giving one last fleeting glance at the makeshift memorial for my younger sister, Portia. "I... Sorry. I'll be right in."

My mother closes the door to our tiny house, and I'm allowed to return to the small plant that I sit with when I miss her; other than my family and I, the plant is the only thing alive on this small plot of land, so I felt it only necessary to use it to honor my sister, the most vivacious and bright person I ever knew. Portia knew what it really meant to be alive. She knew the difference between living and surviving, but one day, she did neither.

My family has always been weak. I'm the oldest of 6 boys, born to a 14-year-old suicidal prostitute and no one to call a father. There was always speculation about who could be the source of half of my genetics, but truth be told, even as a young teenager, my mother slept around too much to know for sure who my father is. Some thought it was a Peacekeeper, some thought of some wealthier citizens; merchants, some even considered the Mayor. We lived on the streets for a while, my mother and I, but I was too young to remember it. Eventually, my mother saved up enough money to buy a small shack. It wasn't much; a bedroom, a common room, and an outhouse with a water well in the back, but it was enough for the two of us. When I was 2, she gave birth to twins, my two younger brothers Kipling and Jayden. Seven years after that, Portia was born.

We were all weak at that point. A 23-year-old mother and her four children all sleeping on the floor under the same blanket can lead to some pretty adverse side effects. Though none of us were in particularly good shape, Portia was the worst due to a throat infection caught from one of her friends. She died when she was 7, and because death and miscarriage were such normal occurrences in our household, I was deemed weird for being the one who mourned her death. Since Portia, my mother has given birth to three more boys, as well as having countless miscarriages. After a while, I stopped grieving. I felt bad, of course, but none of us felt too much of a need to feel bad for things we couldn't change. We all became numb. At least, I thought we did, until a few months after my youngest brother Centen was born.

 _The other kids were at school, but I decided to skip that day. I couldn't bear the idea of sitting in a classroom; it wasn't even 8:00 in the morning and my ADHD had already gotten the best of me. After going for a short walk around the District, I decided to just go back home. Since everyone was either at school or with the school-provided daycare and Mom was probably working, I figured I would have the house to myself. I opened the front door and went into the bedroom, but my mother was already there, holding a razor blade. There was blood dripping from her wrists, thighs and hips, and tears running down her face. She tried in vain to wipe them away, but all it did was smear blood on her face._

 _"What the hell are you doing?!" I exclaimed, snatching the razor and smacking her on the back of the head. I know it was harsh looking back on it, but she needed to snap out of it. I sat down next to her. "Are you trying to leave your goddamn kids without a father or a mother?"_

 _She burst into even more tears and laid her head in my lap, sobbing into my pant leg. I stroked her hair as she did, trying not to get more upset. She needed help, not anger. We stayed like that for a while, my mother crying and me comforting her until she shifted to face me, no longer crying as hard._

 _"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'm so glad you got here. I don't know what I would have done."_

After my mother's suicide attempt, she became more fragile and more attached to me. She was grateful, I guess, that I had stopped her. I was happy she was alive, but that didn't mean I didn't resent her. I give one last fleeting look at the plant before opening the front door and going back inside.

When I enter the larger of two rooms in the house, I see Mom stirring a large pot of something- presumedly tessera grain- on the stove. The 16-year-old twins Kipling and Jayden are sitting on the couch together, talking somberly in a hushed tone; unusual for both of them, as Kipling likes to joke around and have fun while Jayden cries at anything remotely sad. Despite being twins, it's easy to tell them apart as Jayden is a bit shorter due to a developmental disability. Picken and Joshun who are 4 and 3 respectively are sitting in the middle of the floor playing with some small plastic figurines that they found on the streets once, both making loud whooshing and beeping noises with their mouths and slamming the figures into each other. Lastly, my youngest brother Centen who's a year old walks up to me a bit unsteadily, clutching my legs when he reaches me. The last time I cried was four months ago when he called me "Daddy," because it reminded me that none of us will ever really know who our fathers are.

I tousle his hair then pick him up, carrying him over to the kitchen area to see our mother.

"Whatcha making?" I ask, shifting with Centen.

"Tessera grain, a little water and some mint leaves," she says, giving the pot another stir with a wooden spoon.

"Sounds great," I say, hugging her with my free arm. "Where'd you get the mint?"

"Picken and Joshun brought some change home," she says, putting the spoon down. "I thought Reaping Day was as good a time as any to enjoy it because..."

Because half of her children have a chance at being Reaped.

"I get it," I say. Centen starts to squirm, so I put him down and he runs to the other side of the room to play with Picken and Joshun, who gladly hand him a toy.

"Remember what we talked about last night," Mom says. "I know you're protective of the twins and all but-"

"I know," I say. "Don't volunteer for either of them."

"Good," she says. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you."

They say that parents aren't supposed to have a favorite child, but I can tell that I'm my mother's favorite, and it makes me feel bad. We have a close bond, and while I'm happy we're close, I wish she was this close with all of her children. I promised her that I wouldn't volunteer for Kipling or Jayden, but in reality, if Jayden was Reaped I would volunteer without hesitation. Jayden wouldn't last a day in the arena; he's not like other kids, and just the thought of him in a death match with 23 others makes me incredibly nervous. Kipling and I have a chance to come home, though, and it's preferable for either of us to go in in his place. Though Mom has told me not to volunteer for either of them, Kipling and I decided a long time ago that if Jayden were ever Reaped, we would go in his place. It just wouldn't be fair.

"Can you grab the bowls from the cabinet?" she asks me, gesturing to the cupboard above the counter. We have exactly seven bowls, spoons, knives and cups, and every time there's another child, we buy one more. I take out the bowls and spoons, and Mom spoons some of the grain mush into each. As I'm dropping spoons in the bowls, she calls "Kids, come eat!"

I set aside the three bowls with the most in them for the twins and me since we're substantially larger than the rest of the family. Mom gets the next most, then Picken, then Joshun. I hand the twins their bowls, and the five of them go to the living area to eat while I sit at the counter and feed Centen. When he's done eating, I scarf mine down.

"Alright guys, the Reaping starts in a little bit," Mom says. "We need to leave now if we're going to be on time. Big kids, grab a little kid, we've gotta get a move on."

I pick up Centen since he wouldn't be able to walk fast enough or for this long of a time, but he seems fine with me carrying him to the Square. Picken and Joshun each grab the hand of one of the twins and with Mom trailing behind us, we set off. Mom, the twins and I are all nearly silent on our walk since we understood fully what was to happen when we got there, but Joshun and Picken wouldn't shut up, asking over and over again what the Reaping was and when they would be allowed to know. Though I've always has a strange itching sense of enjoyment towards the Hunger Games, it becomes too real on Reaping Day. I only enjoy it when there's no chance of it being me in the arena.

"When you're older," Mom said.

" _How_ old?" Joshun demands.

"I don't know!" Mom says, getting frustrated. "Older."

"Why?" Picken asks, swinging Jayden's hand.

"Because I said so," she states with finality.

We're quiet the rest of the way to the Square, and when we get there, the twins and I get in line to have our blood drawn while Mom takes the younger ones to the spectators' area. Because we got there with so little time to spare, the line is outrageously long and we wait for what feels like an eternity. Finally, the three of us all get our blood drawn, and we make our way into the Square. I give both of the twins a stiff hug as we go our separate ways, the two of them to the 16-year-old section and myself to the 18-year-olds.

The escort eventually steps onto the stage, and I take a deep shuddery breath as I wait.

* * *

Victor's Village, House #2 (The Scalia Residence), June 16th, 12:30 pm

 **Oneka Scalia (17) POV**

 **District 9 female  
**

The afternoon of the Reaping, I stand in my bathroom, staring critically at my reflection in the cold mirror that guards the medicine cabinet, making careful observations about the girl staring back at me. Pretty to some, ugly to others, but really quite plain to most, her shoulder length brown hair simply hangs, there is no light in her dull brown eyes and her skin is pasty at best.

 _"Worthless,"_ the voices sneer in my mind. I cover my ears, trying, trying, trying to block them out, but they're still there. _"Stupid, ugly, fat, dumb, liar, bitch."_

I let out a small whimper of defeat, hoping that they'll take the hint that they've won and that they can go away now. They don't.

 _"Why don't you just kill yourself? It's not like anyone would miss you."_

A tear escapes my eye, and my vision is clouded. I barely register myself reaching to sit down on the closed toilet. My chest heaves, and I clamp my hands over my ears again, trying in vain to block out the voices. But now, they're louder than before.

 _"No one will miss you,"_ they repeat. _"You're such a piece of shit. No one will ever love you, especially not with those scars. They aren't even real; you're a liar, a faker. No one likes a cheat."_

Too much. The voices are just too much. I know how to quiet them, but I desperately don't want to. It hurts to silence them; hurts my stomach, my back, my head, my throat. But the voices are unbearable, and the physical pain isn't anywhere near as bad as the emotional pain, so I suck it up. I grab the cup with the toothbrushes in it, and dump them out onto the counter, filling the cup with water.

 _"This is good, Oneka. Keep going, Oneka. You know how to make us leave, Oneka."_

The words hurt earlier, but now, they fuel me. They give me the reassurance that what I'm doing is right. I delve further into the medicine cabinet and pull out everything I can; pain killers, diet supplements, laxatives, cough medicine, sleep aids, everything. The trick is to take a few from a lot of bottles; no one's going to notice five pills from a few bottles missing, but they'll sure as hell notice an entire bottle of sleep aid gone. Leaving the cabinet open, so as not to see myself in the mirror, I pop a few pretty pills into my mouth at a time, chasing each team with a gulp of bathroom sink water. I stop counting how many pills I've swallowed after 20, but I know I've done more than that. I decide to stop when the water runs out because I've never been especially good at dry-swallowing pills.

With shaking hands, a lurching stomach and a pounding head, I screw the caps back onto the pill bottles. I grab a few in my hand to put back into the cabinet. Just as I'm putting the bottles back, my vision goes almost completely black, and my stomach turns. I drop the bottles and turn on a dime, barely being able to open the lid to the toilet before I throw up. It hurt my already sore throat because it was really just a combination of water, whole pills, and stomach acid since I haven't eaten anything since breakfast yesterday. It's not that I purposely starve myself, it's just that sometimes, I go an entire day without really thinking to eat, or wanting to leave my room. Yesterday was one of those days.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not ungrateful. I recognize the fact that since my stepmother won the Hunger Games, I'm one of the most financially privileged people in the District, and I always feel horrible when I don't eat, but I always get to thinking "What's the point of eating to stay alive now when we're all just going to die eventually anyway?"

My stepmom, Lesidi, won the 207th Hunger Games when she was 16. Now she's 36 and married to my 48-year-old abusive asshat of a father because... Well, we're not really sure why. I've always thought that she did it to protect me, but never admitted it because I'd feel horrible if she married him because of me. Lesidi and my dad got married a few years after she won her Games, a year after my mom died in childbirth. My dad always said it was my fault, that if I had never been born, she never would have died. He always used to say that when he would hit me, that he was only hurting me because he loved mom so much.

But I don't think she loved him. There were always rumors going around the District about how my dad had basically forced her into marrying him because she had money and he had a knife- in hindsight, it's probably why he went for Lesidi; the money. I wouldn't know for sure, though, and I'm certainly not in the place to ask anyone. Aside from Lesidi, I don't talk to, well, anyone really. I used to have a pet bird named Peke, but he escaped when I was fourteen. That's when I started to really truly feel alone.

As I'm getting up off the bathroom floor, I hear a soft knock on the door, and a cautious feminine voice say "Oneka, are you almost ready?"

"Yeah," I stammer. "Yeah, just... Just getting dressed. I'll be ready in just a few minutes."

"Your dad's getting impatient," she says, quieter. "Try to hurry up if you can."

"Okay," I say, softly.

I hear her footsteps retreat and pull on my Reaping outfit; a thick gray sweater with sleeves extending far past my wrists, a knee length skirt of the same material and gray ankle boots. It's not the most fashionable thing in the world, but Lesidi wore it to her Reaping when she was Reaped, and it covers all of my self-inflicted wounds; each and every time I've traced my wrists, thighs, and hips with a blade is hidden by this outfit. Quickly, I brush my teeth to get rid of the taste of bile from my mouth, then exit the bathroom.

The closer we get to the Square on our drive, the happier I get. Because the closer to the Square we are, the closer we are to the Reaping. And the closer we are to the Reaping, the closer I am to getting out of this hellhole, because I made up my mind this morning, while I was popping all those pills.

This is the year that I volunteer.

Numbly, I walk to the Square alongside my father and stepmother. None of us speak, because, despite our differences, we can all appreciate that today will be horrible no matter who's chosen. The walk goes surprisingly quickly, and as soon as we get there, Lesedi takes her spot in one of three chairs designated for the Victors. She didn't mentor last year, so she's supposed to this year, but if I volunteer, she'd probably request a substitute.

I get in line to enter the Square, and when the Peacekeeper pricks my finger, I don't even flinch. Worse things have happened to me. As I walk to the 17-year-old girls' section, I move with a slight purpose, trying not to draw attention to myself and hating the feeling of other people's eyes on me. How am I going to volunteer when I hate people looking at me?

 _If you die, people will never look at you again._

I stand alone, waiting as patiently as I can for the Reaping to begin, but simultaneously just wanting to get it over with. District 9's escort climbs the steps to the stage and gives the same spiel that we hear every year. I tune it out, just staring at the girls' Reaping bowl, waiting for a name to be picked so that I can volunteer. Eventually the escort- Bubble, I think- crosses the stage to the glass ball and selects a slip, carrying it back to the microphone and unfolding it as she goes.

"Oneka Scalia?" she says, with a fake sounding giggle. "Um, did I say that right?"

"Yes," I whisper to myself. So I don't have to volunteer. The eyes would be on me anyway. It's relieving, to be honest, and a slight smile creeps to the corner of my mouth. I close my eyes briefly to stop the happy tears from falling. I meet my stepmother's eyes on the stage. Her face is troubled, and I almost feel bad for wanting this, but once I'm dead, she can divorce my dad.

Once I finally get to the stage, I stand in one place, feet planted firmly on the ground, hands clasped behind my back and staring straight ahead. Bubble starts to ask for a volunteer and I wave her off. She crosses the stage to the boys' Reaping bowl and selects a name from the very bottom. She goes to the microphone and reads off "Marsellus Hopson!"

A boy steps out of the 18-year-olds' section, walking up somewhat calmly and I feel immediately bad because I recognize him. He lives in a shack on the edge of the District- a structure that you could barely call a house- with several younger siblings and no father. I've seen some of his younger siblings around Victor's Village, sitting on the edge of the street with empty cups. I try to give them money when I can. He has so much worth coming home to, and because of his District, he probably won't. It makes me sad, but I get over it, trying to keep the facade of not caring.

"There you have it, District 9!" Bubble screeches. "Your tributes for this year's Hunger Games; Oneka Scalia and Marsellus Hopson. May the odds be ever in your favor."

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Marsellus Hopson (18) POV**

 **District 9 male**

I'm alone in the waiting room for a fair amount of time before I'm allowed visitors. While I wait, left to my own devices, I'm incredibly antsy. I try sitting on a couch, shaking my leg and nodding my head to the imaginary music that's forever playing in my mind, but I find myself still jittery, so I start pacing around the room. I walk to the window and try to open it. It's sealed shut. Understandable. I take a step backward then run forwards and punch the window as hard as I possibly can, trying to see if it will break. It doesn't so I try stepping even further back and punching it once more. It still doesn't budge, and the window refusing to break is making me extremely claustrophobic.

My body starts itching all over with a strong desire to get out of the room. I don't know where I want to go, but I need to breathe fresh air and think; to be away from here. I grab a heavy looking paperweight from the shelf, and when I pick it up it weighs down my arm. I hold it for a moment, getting used to its weight before throwing it as hard as I possibly can at the window. It still doesn't break, and the paperweight falls to the floor with a _thud._

I let out a bloodcurdling scream, wondering what's going on with me, and why I suddenly have no control over myself, why I suddenly need to be out of here. As I do so, a Peacekeeper comes into the room and jabs a needle into my arm.

My last thought as I fall to the floor with the paperweight is that I never got to say goodbye to my family.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Oneka Scalia (17) POV**

 **District 9 female**

When I sit down in the stiff wooden chair in the room of the Justice Building, I'm oddly calm. Even though I planned on volunteering anyway, I thought I would be anxious, panicking and crying. But I'm okay. I'm okay because I know that the arena is going to kill me, and I'm absolutely fine with that. It makes me feel like I'm finally doing something worthwhile; my pain will be over, Lesedi can leave my dad and it will be his turn to suffer. Maybe I'd even get to meet my mother. I've aways wondered what comes after death, and pretty soon I won't have to be curious anymore.

The dark wooden door opens and a Peacekeeper stands in the doorway with my father and stepmom. I immediately look at the Peacekeeper and say "I don't want him here." Wordlessly, she grabs my father by the arm and escorts him out, all the while he's glaring at me with hatred. I run to Lesedi and she envelops me in a hug while crying and stroking my hair.

"You need to leave him," I murmur. She breaks the hug, holding me at arms' length.

"What?" she asks.

"I know you're only with him for me," I say. "That's why you take the beatings. But I'm going to die in that arena-"

"You're not going to die Oneka, I can keep you safe."

"And when I die, there's no need for you to stay with him. He's nothing but abusive and you deserve better."

"I can get you sponsors-"

"We both know that I won't make it past the bloodbath," I say. "But that's okay. I don't need to be around anymore. Everyone has their time and mine has run out. I'm accepting it."

The hugs me again, crying, and we stay like that until the's asked to leave.

"Are you mentoring me or Marsellus?" I ask.

"No," she says. "The only family allowed to mentor is siblings and cousins." I nod. "I love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

 **Merci BUCKETS to Lulubell2495 for Oneka and YesmyLordCiel for Marsellus!**

 **Note: Generally, the POVs will have similar themes. Again, if it's triggering, PM me and I'll tell you what happens.**

 **Guys I haven't done this much narrative in a long time. Narrative and sad characters are the reason this took a while to get out.**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Oneka or Marsellus?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	14. District 10 Reaping

_The sun didn't really care how I felt. It was going to rise and set regardless of whether I noticed it, and if I was going to enjoy it, that was up to me._  
-Jeannette Walls

* * *

The Griffey Residence, June 16th, 5:30 am

 **Rowan Griffey (16) POV**

 **District 10 male**

My mother always said if you want to feel God's love, watch a sunrise, and that if you wanted to feel God's wrath watch a thunderstorm. The sky the early morning of the Reaping was streaked with vibrant pinks, oranges, and blues, perfectly painted, unlike any other. However, District 10 had seen thunderstorms for the past several days and today was no exception. Along with the colors of the sunrise was gray storm clouds with a hint of a rainbow. It's enough to take my breath away, and I wish that I could stay in the moment forever. If only it wasn't Reaping Day, I might be able to enjoy it. If only.

The morning sky confused me. The bright colors of the sunrise made me think that it would be a good day. As a kid, I always associated a good early morning with a good rest of the day and vice versa. However, the thunderstorm makes me think otherwise. Is God happy? Loving? Angry? Or is a sunrise just a sunrise, and I'm reading too much into it?

I was never one to sleep late because I like to maximize the amount of time where I'm awake and no one else is. It's not really that I'm antisocial- in fact, I love being around my friend Bri- it's just that my family brings me a vague sense of insecurity, and whenever I'm around them, I wish for nothing more than to be away. I love them with all my heart, but sometimes they just don't understand me as well as I'd like them to. I feel like I'm not one of them, and though I've always known why I've never wanted to accept it.

Evelynn Finlarro was 16 years old when she met the man that she would fall aggressively and passionately in love with. I don't know much about him; just that he was in his early twenties and that he was a Peacekeeper. Evelynn was beautiful, with wide green eyes and curly black hair, and when her green eyes met the Peacekeeper's brown ones when his helmet was off, she was instantly smitten. She became obsessed with trying to win him over; her outfits became skimpier, her hair neater and her laugh rang louder. Eventually, it worked, and he noticed her. He led her off somewhere, and they slept together. He told her that no one could know and that they could both get in a lot of trouble for what they did. He would lose his job and she would be executed. So she kept it a secret.

That is until she realized she was pregnant.

Knowing that she couldn't go through a pregnancy alone, Evelynn searched for weeks for the Peacekeeper, but he had been relocated thus she couldn't find him anywhere. She decided to tell her mother, knowing that she couldn't keep it a secret for long. Repulsed by her daughter's pregnancy, Evelynn was thrown onto the streets and told to never return to her family. She spent months on her own; she dropped out of school, got a job and rented a small shack and each day longed for the Peacekeeper who impregnated her to return. He never did, but I was born anyway. Evelynn could barely support herself, so she sought out a couple who would be willing to adopt me.

Enter Carol and Douglas Griffey. They were perfect, other than their own fertility problems. Deeply religious, wealthy and hard-working with a prior history of adopting another children, Evelynn couldn't think of a better family for me to join, so she handed me over in a heartbeat.

It's not the adoption that makes me feel so much different; Olivia and Rachele were adopted as well. What made me feel so ostracized in a family that cared for me deeply was that each of them was completely dedicated to religion while I doubted the existence of any superior being. Each of them seemed to have a passion that drove them while I was just aimlessly floating through life, uncertain about what I wanted to do. Each of them believed that marriage and sex should be between a married man and woman, and I've questioned my sexuality ever since I can remember. I've always been undeniably attracted to guys but haven't told anyone for fear of what they might think. I know my family wouldn't be supportive and I wouldn't want to burden Bri with my own problems when she already has her own to worry about. I'm not all that close with anyone else, so there's no one else to tell.

But that's okay, I guess. I've always thought that people shouldn't define themselves because of just one thing, so I won't let my sexuality define me, especially if no one else knows. I have other characteristics that people can know me by, and that's good enough for me. I'm quite content having a secret. It might prove to be difficult later on in life when I'm expected to get married and have children if I don't have feelings for any girl, but that's a bridge I can cross when I get there. And who knows, maybe I do like girls. Maybe I just haven't found the right girl to like yet, and all of those times I've had crushes on guys in the past have just been a fluke.

I like that idea. There's a lot of stories around the District of people overcoming their homosexuality as they got older, so maybe I'll just become another success story. It's either that or to become another statistic of kids kicked out of their houses for something as arbitrary and uncontrollable as their sexual or romantic attraction.

I was watching the sun rise from the deck in the backyard, perched on the railing with my legs dangling down, but when I hear footsteps coming towards the back door, I swing my legs the other way and hop off, standing with my back to the house and staring at the horizon, trying to seem inconspicuous. If it's either of my parents or Olivia, I'd get a lecture about falling off the deck and breaking a leg, and I'm not up for that this early in the morning. Olivia doesn't generally live with us, as she has her own house with her husband, but she's been staying with us for a little while to prepare for the Reaping while her husband does the same with his family. If it's Rachele that saw me, she'd just roll her eyes and sarcastically say that she hoped I fell off. I hear the screen door that leads to the deck creek open and my mother sticks her head out, smiling warmly when she sees me.

"Hi sweetheart," she says. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I was just..." I trail off. Thinking about my birth parents? Having an existential crisis? Vaguely hoping to not be Reaped, but just as vaguely not minding if I was? "Watching the sun rise. I didn't sleep much last night, the Reaping had me a little on edge."

"Don't worry about getting Reaped," she says, walking over to me and ruffling my hair. "There's such a small chance that it'll be you or Rachele, but even if it is, I'm sure it's part of God's plan."

That's my mom, in a nutshell. Willing to justify the exploitation, torture, and slaughter of children as part of God's bigger picture. I guess I understand, though. Mom and Dad spent years of their lives praying for children, and when the first social worker gave them Olivia, they attributed her to their prayer. Religion became their lifelines, and though they raised Rachele and Olivia on Christian ideals, it was never really my thing. I followed along for their sake, so they wouldn't think that I was being rebellious or disrespectful, but I just never had a taste for it.

"Why don't you go get ready for the Reaping?" she asks. "I'll make you some pancakes and you get your sisters up."

"Thanks, Mom," I say, giving her a quick kiss before walking inside and upstairs to my bedroom.

When I get to my room, I rifle around my dresser drawers and procure something that isn't too casual; a red flannel shirt and a pair of dark jeans. I take the clothes into the bathroom and take a quick shower before getting dressed and brushing my teeth. I run my fingers through my hair before deciding to just leave it unkempt and messy. No one actually cares what my hair looks like anyway. When my mediocre attempt at getting ready is done, I exit my room and walk down the hall to the larger room which Rachele and Olivia share. I knock on the door and pause, waiting for a response but there is none. I open the door cautiously and find Olivia curled up on her side and Rachele taking up as much space in her bed as she can, snoring faintly.

"Guys?" I say, hesitantly. Olivia rolls over and continues sleeping, but Rachele remains dead to the world. "Guys!"

Olivia jolts up. "Hm?" she asks, rubbing her eyes.

"Mom's making breakfast," I say, shifting my weight to my other foot. "She wanted me to wake you guys up."

"That's nice of her," Olivia says with a groggy smile. Rachele grunts, managing to swing her legs off of her bed and stand.

"Why do we have to wake up at 6 am?" she asks, grumpily. "Isn't it supposed to be a holiday?"

"Lighten up, Rachele," Olivia says gently. "Mom probably just wants to spend time with is before the Reaping. In case..."

"Yeah, yeah," she says, getting back into bed. "I'll be down in a little bit."

Olivia finger-combs her hair and we walk downstairs together to the kitchen where Mom is making pancakes and Dad is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He looks at Olivia and me from under his glasses.

"No Rachele?" he asks, turning the page.

"She'll be down in a few minutes," Olivia says.

"I don't want to start breakfast without her," Mom says, troubled.

Just then, Rachele thunders down the stairs wearing blue plaid pajama pants and a black tank top, her curly brown hair in a ponytail with strands hanging out. Compared to Olivia in an oversized white shirt and pink shorts with her dirty blonde hair straight and shiny, the two don't even look like sisters. I marvel at how little they look alike before remembering that they share no blood, as we were all adopted.

My story of being the illegitimate child of a Peacekeeper and a teenager was nothing compared to Olivia and Rachele. When Olivia was only 2, her birth mother caught her birth father molesting her and tried to kill him. Both parents were sent to jail, and Olivia was left without a family. After being in foster care for six months, our parents adopted her. She's 20 now and has almost no memories of her life before she was adopted. Rachele was adopted when she was 5, meaning that even though she was a year older than me, our parents adopted me first. Rachele's father died before she was born, and her mom wasn't mentally right ever since. From the day she was born, Rachele's mother abused her physically until a neighbor saw her hit her through a window. Social workers came and took Rachele away, and our parents volunteered to adopt her immediately. She's had the most trouble adjusting to life here even after 12 years because she has memories before this family.

We pray before we eat, and when we start eating our pancakes and eggs, we do so silently. I can tell my parents are praying, Olivia is quiet and thoughtful, Rachele is quiet and sullen and I'm quiet because I have nothing to say. We all finish around the same time, putting our dishes in the sink and retreating back to where we came from. I go to my room and read for a bit, and after about 30 minutes, there's a knock at my door.

"Yeah?" I call. Olivia pokes her head through my doorway.

"Can I use your bathroom?" she asks. "Rachele has been in ours for a really long time."

"Sure," I say, returning to my book.

"Thanks," she says, walking through my room. "You know, you really should clean up in here. What if you ever have a girl over?"

"Unlikely," I mutter.

"I'm sure you'll find someone, Rowan," she says, walking into my bathroom. After a moment, I hear the showerhead turn on. I keep reading and after some time, she comes out wearing a dressy white shirt and fitted jeans, towel drying her hair.

"Thanks again," she says, disappearing into the hall.

I do my best to keep myself entertained after she leaves, knowing that I have to keep my mind off of the Reaping, and it works. I manage to keep myself occupied and go downstairs to the living room around noon to spend time with my family. Mom and Dad are sitting together on a couch, Olivia is in an armchair and Rachele is nowhere to be seen, so I sit in a chair and join in their conversation. After a while of Olivia telling us some stories about her and her husband, Rachele joins us from upstairs and Mom looks at her disapprovingly.

"That's what you're wearing to the Reaping?" she asks, looking her up and down. She's wearing a short dark red dress with a deep neckline, knee socks the same color, black knee high boots and a black leather jacket with her hair straightened and put in a high ponytail. She managed to find a lipstick the same color as her dress and her eye makeup is black and smudgy.

"Planning on it," she says, sitting down in a chair next to mine.

"Sweetie, what if people get the wrong idea?" Mom asks, concerned.

"What do you mean?" Rachele asks, flatly. I can tell she knows exactly what she means, but is in the mood to challenge her.

"I've seen prostitutes dressed more conservatively than that," Dad says, half joking. "Being a Peacekeeper when I was younger, there were a lot of girls that would-"

Silently, I stand from my chair and walk into the kitchen, taking deep breaths. I know he didn't mean to call my mother a whore, but it was hard to not take it that way. Dad realizes his mistake and comes to the kitchen to apologize. I tell him it's okay and we go back into the living room. After we run out of things to talk about, we watch the Capitol preparing for the Games until it's time to go to the Reaping.

* * *

The Black Market, June 16th, 9:00 am

 **Terry Kartcher (18) POV**

 **District 10 female**

District 10's black market was dingy, slightly damp and always smelled like mildew, but over time, I became accustomed to it. Up until a few years ago, I would never willingly set foot here, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and it turns out that once you get over the general atmosphere of the place, it's not that bad at all.

It all starts with my parents, really. Their age difference is greater than that of most couples that I know; 17 years apart, to be exact. My father has always had a comfortable amount of money from being a relatively popular horse breeder, and my mother has always been beautiful, so a lot of people thought that when they got married days after my mother's last Reaping, my mother only married for money. District 10 isn't full of the most accepting people, and since they couldn't fathom why such a beautiful young woman married someone so much older than her, people started spreading rumors about my father being abusive to both my mother and the animals they bred. He wasn't and still isn't, but some rumors are hard to shake, so it stuck. My parents became social outcasts, more or less, and when my older brother and I were born, we joined them immediately.

When they rumors started being spread, our family's business lost customers and money, and my brother and I wanted to do what we could to bring in some extra money. Willie started working more with our parents, trying hard to get more people interested in our business. I didn't seem to have the hand for breaking or breeding horses like the rest of my family did (though I was pretty good at riding), so I ventured out into the District to find somewhere that would hire me. Unfortunately, most shop owners had their prejudices against my family and stores wouldn't hire me. As a last resort, I went somewhere where I knew they wouldn't refuse help from anywhere; the black market.

There were no especially organized jobs within the black market since it was generally just people with stands selling their extra things, but I managed. A lot of people were willing to give me loose change to wash their counters, put things in bags and sweep. It didn't make much, but it was better than nothing. At the end of the day, I'd go home and give whatever money I made to my brother and he'd tell our parents that it was tip money. The black market was technically illegal, and we both knew that Mom and Dad would freak out if they knew I was there almost daily, running the risk of getting caught by Peacekeepers but Willie was an essential part of the plan. Otherwise, I wouldn't have an explanation as to where the money was coming from.

Unfortunately, the rest of the District also understood that money had to come from somewhere, and when they saw our business and family doing better again, they jumped to their own conclusions.

I thought cleaning up around the black market was about as bad as it could get before the same people who thought that my mother was a gold digger started thinking that I was a prostitute. It made sense to them; the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, so if my mother was supposedly a whore, it would make sense if I was as well. I fell into a deep depression when I caught wind of these rumors, and it made it hard for me to leave the house, go to school or the market, or do anything, really.

One day, my brother managed to get me out of the house to go for a walk and we ran into the Mayor's son and three of his friends. When we walked past them, the Mayor's son whispered something to his friends and the entire group erupted into laughter. I looked down, knowing that they were talking about me and choosing to leave the situation alone, but Willie walked right up to them despite my protests and asked them what they were doing. I wasn't within earshot to hear what the boys said to him, but I was definitely close enough to see my brother punch the Mayor's kid directly in the jaw. I stood in awe as I saw the boy fall to the ground. Two of them ran away while the other stayed, trying to see if his friend was okay.

Willie and I both thought that the kids ran away out of fear, but they returned mere moments later flanked by two Peacekeepers. They helped the Mayor's son up then brought my brother and I to the Square. My brother got 15 lashes for disturbing the peace, and since I wasn't directly involved, I just had to watch and eventually help him home. The worst part of the situation was that the Mayor's kid got off with little more than a slap on the wrist since he couldn't very well be punished.

We got home and Willie immediately went to take a cold bath while I explained the whole situation to my parents. To this day, I've never seen my father angrier or my mother so heartbroken in my entire life.

Somewhere along the lines, I made friends with the boy who lives next door to me. We started talking from opposite sides of the fence since both of our families owned too much land to talk from our bedrooms. I'm still not sure if he had never heard the rumors, didn't believe them or didn't care even if they were true (which they weren't), but he was my friend and that's all that really mattered. I developed a crush on him from our first conversation, but I didn't want to make it weird with one of the only friends I had, so I never brought it up, but we eventually started dating when I found out from his sister that he had feelings for me as well. Circumstances being what they were, he had to move, and I miss the talks we would have through the fence. We still see each other constantly, though.

"Terry!" a voice calls. I snap out of my thoughts and make eye contact with my close friend Ike. He makes a living auctioning off less than perfect livestock, and I guess I got lost in thought while brushing a horse's mane.

"Yeah?" I ask, going back to brushing.

"You alright?" he asks. "You seem out of it."

I pause. "A little spacey, I guess," I say. "Last Reaping jitters, you know."

"I understand," he says.

I go back to brushing, feeding, and generally preparing the animals for the auction for another few hours while making quiet conversation with Ike. He's not my best friend in the world, but he has good intentions and doesn't care what people think of either of us, making him a good friend of mine. The clock chimes, letting us know that it's noon and that we have 2 hours until the Reaping begins.

"Why don't you go home?" he suggests, offering a crooked smile to showcase his equally crooked teeth. "You've got the Reaping later, I'm sure you want to spend time with your family."

"Thanks, Ike," I say, grabbing my backpack. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out $20, handing it to me.

"Thanks for your help," he says.

"Not a problem," I say, accepting the money and putting it in my bag.

I go outside carefully, making sure no one sees me do so and climb up onto one of our family's horses, Ajax. Dad says we shouldn't name the horses because it makes it harder for us to give them away, but I named Ajax anyway. He's been my favorite for years, so I don't think he's going anywhere anytime soon.

The ride home takes about a half hour, and immediately when I get back, I look for my brother. I find him quickly and pass him the money I got from Ike. I don't know where my parents think I go every day, but they've never asked so I never told them. I go to the upstairs bathroom to take a bath and get the grime from riding and being in the market off of me. When I'm done, I go to my room and get dressed for the Reaping, pulling on a jean blouse and an off-white skirt. I tuck in the shirt and grab a tan belt, as well as riding boots of the same color.

I go downstairs and meet my family in the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of milk.

"Are you nervous?" Mom asks.

"A little," I admit. "I know it's irrational because I probably won't get picked, but…"

"I get it," Will says. "There's always that fear."

"You can say that again," I mumble.

We spend a little while talking about happy things, trying to keep our minds off of the Reaping, but when the bells go off, we're forced to face reality and get to the Square. I walk alongside my brother, and just on the way to the Reaping, we get a lot of weird looks, snickers, and whispers, reminding me of why I don't like to leave the house unless I'm leaving to go to the market.

Going to school especially became unbearable, because I only had three friends that I went to school with. One was a year older than me, and more my boyfriend's (who eventually dropped out) friend than mine, so he finished before I did. With neither of them in school with me anymore, I was left with just Kendra Hopkins, who I met in middle school. We hit it off immediately, but after a while, we realized that we were cousins, as our mothers were sisters. When they found out, Kendra's mom said that we weren't allowed to be friends anymore because she, like the rest of the District, believed that my mom and I were whores. We didn't listen to our mothers, though, and we continued to be friends.

It feels like an eternity to get to the Square because so many people keep looking at me, but when we do get there, I'm thrilled to see Kendra near the back of the line waiting to have her finger pricked. My parents and brother go to the section with everyone else who's ineligible for the Reaping and I go to the back of the line where Kendra meets me.

"Our last Reaping," I say. "Are you ready?"

"Not really," she says, forlornly.

"Me neither," I say. "Good luck."

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

* * *

Victor's Village, House #6 (The Henderson Residence), June 16th, 12:30 pm

 **Fenton Henderson (18) Mentor POV**

 **Victor of the 226th Hunger Games**

"Can I have orange juice?"

"I want chocolate chips!"

"Is there bacon left?"

"Fenton, do you want sausage?"

"I can't, Mom, it's meat."

"Scrambled eggs?" she asks.

"Still came from an animal," I say.

"Have I mentioned recently that I hate this vegan thing?" she asks. "What do you eat?"

I open my mouth to respond, but my little sister Maddy cuts me off.

"Mommy, I want to be vegan," she states.

"Tough luck," Mom says to Maddy. "You're already a vegetarian, that's difficult enough. Besides, you're a growing girl, you need your milk."

"Actually-" I start.

"Can it, Fenton," Mom says.

I share a look with Maddy who smiles sweetly. In a family of butchers, she and I were the only ones who really cared for animals and had a desire to protect them. I'd heard the words "vegan" and "vegetarian" before, but I always felt like I needed to eat meat because it was incredibly discounted due to my father's profession. However, upon winning the Games, I found myself with quite a bit more money; more than I know what to do with, even now. I started buying my own food and over time I discovered myself getting less and less meat. Maddy followed suit.

"Seriously Fenton, what do you want for breakfast?" she asks. "You have to eat, it's an important day."

"Mom it's fine," I say. "There'll be food on the train."

"Toast and fruit it is," she says.

Mom goes back to the island in the middle of the large kitchen, grabbing orange juice for Maddy, bacon for Channon and chocolate chips for Chance's pancakes. Channon and Chance are the 13-year-old twins and do everything together being best friends. The oldest of us is Devin, who's 20 and pretty much does his own thing. Mom starts to walk back to the kitchen to get breakfast for me, but I motion for her to sit down at the table, which she does without hesitation. I go to the kitchen and cut up some apples, pineapple, and watermelon and put it on a plate with some grapes and two pieces of toast. I pour myself some juice and sit down at the table with the rest of my family, hold Dad and Devin who are both putting in some extra hours at work.

While most families tend to eat in uncomfortable silence on the day of the Reaping, my family never has. Don't get me wrong, we're just as terrified of it as anyone else would be; for God's sake, I got Reaped a year ago. Our family just has too many children for any affair to be a quiet one. Despite my ineligibility, I think I'm the most scared out of everyone sitting at the table. My siblings and mother seem to think that the twins are exempt from the Reaping because I won last year, but I know better than to think that. There's been plenty of cases of people being sent to the Games a year or two after their sibling won if said sibling did something that the President didn't like.

The 17th Hunger Games were won by Jarvis Stoz from District 6 who made several suicide attempts in the arena. In his post-Games interview, he said that he wished he had died in the arena. The next year, his brother was Reaped and was killed by the girl from District 1 in the bloodbath. The 74th Hunger Games was won by Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark from 12, as they were in love and threatened a double suicide if they couldn't both win. On top of that, Katniss volunteered for her sister, making her a target. The next year's Quarter Quell sent them both back in, where the woman from 2- Enobaria- won. The year following that, Katniss's younger sister was Reaped for the second time and died somewhere in the middle. However, most notably, Alexis Marshall from District 2 volunteered for the 203rd Games with the facade of a Career tribute aiming to win. However, she assembled a team of six others and spent their entire time in the arena looking for a way out. Their time was short, as, on the third day, a volcano explosion killed them all. The next year, Alexis's brother and cousin were Reaped, and both volunteers were restrained by Peacekeepers. The two of them allied, but a volcano eruption killed them as well.

My involvement with Alicia Schripe is definitely seen as less than acceptable. It's not that I'm directly involved with the rebellion by any means; in fact, I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. It's just that Alicia is one of the main minds behind it, and my pretending to be in a relationship with her, as well as father her child for the sake of publicity will make it look like I'm involved with the rebellion from the perspective anyone who knows about it. In actuality, I value Alicia a lot as a friend, but upon returning from the Games, I mustered the courage to ask out my childhood crush, who I've now been with for almost a year. As scared as I am for Channon and Chance, I know that the entire country knows that I'm much more attached to Maddy, so she has a greater chance of being Reaped than they do if the President wants to see me broken. She's 8 now, so she only has a few more safe Reaping days left.

In other words, I'm not as scared for Chance, Channon and Maddy as Alicia should be for her younger sister Ashley. However, Alicia is so convinced that the rebellion would be successful that she thinks that Ashley will never have to face a Reaping in her life.

"Are you gonna see your girlfriend today?" Channon asks, teasingly.

"No," I say, sadly. "She had to work. But we're gonna spend time together as soon as I get back from mentoring."

I finish my breakfast and look into the kitchen to see if there's more food only to see that it's already 1:30 pm.

"Guys, the Reaping starts in a half hour," I say, picking up my dishes and taking them to the kitchen.

"So?" Chance asks. "It takes like 10 minutes to drive to the Square."

"15," I correct him. "And I have to get there early to take my place and stuff."

"I still can't believe you won," Channon says.

"You and me both," I mutter.

"How are Daddy and Devin getting there?" Maddy asks.

"They're walking," Mom responds. "Everyone put your dishes in the kitchen and get in the car."

"I call the front!" Chance calls.

"Absolutely not," I say.

Once everyone's shoes are on, we file into the car; I drive since I'm the only one who learned how Mom sits next to me and Maddy sits between the twins in the back. We reach the Square relatively quickly and find Dad and Devin already in the spectators' section. After giving Maddy a kiss on the top of her head and promising to see her right when I get back from mentoring, she and Mom walk to the spectators' section, and the twins get in line to get their blood drawn. I wave goodbye to them and walk up to the stage, taking my seat beside my mentor Angus from last year.

"Any predictions on who'll be Reaped?" he asks, gruffly.

"I'd prefer not to bet," I say, looking down. He raises an eyebrow at me, and I sigh. "One of my brothers."

"Some attitude to have," he says.

"It's not like I'm counting on it!" I exclaim. "It's just... It's just that I think that's what'll happen."

"I get it," he says.

Before we can continue our conversation, District 10's escort, Piper Winsheart takes the stage, running her fingers through her short turquoise hair. As far as Capitolites go, she doesn't seem to be too altered; some hair dye and makeup are the only abnormalities on her. No obvious plastic surgery, piercings or tattoos.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Reaping for the 227th Hunger Games! As I'm sure you all know, District 10 pulled a victor last year, so let's give a big round of applause to Fenton Henderson!"

I feel my face heat up and turn bright red as the crowd manages a half-hearted clap, and when the crowd once again becomes silent, Piper continues.

"In honor of our Victor, why don't we start with the boys this year?" She struts to the male Reaping bowl and plucks out the first slip she touches. She unfolds it while walking back to the microphone and clears her throat before reading "Rowan Griffey!"

She didn't pick one of my brothers! I have to physically keep myself from smiling, as that would be seen as inappropriate, but I'm ecstatic that all of my siblings will live to see another year. A boy, assumedly Rowan, steps forward from the 16-year-olds' section looking more angry than scared, and Angus leans over to me and whispers "Dibbs." I can see why Angus would choose to mentor Rowan; he's got some fight in him, and Angus appreciates a fighter. If the Capitol wasn't so against the same District winning twice in a row, I could see Rowan winning.

Piper smiles at Rowan, who stares at her blankly, before walking to the females' bowl. She digs around a bit more, this time, pulling out a name closer to the bottom. I'm more attentive this time with the knowledge that this is the girl I'll be mentoring. My first year mentoring and the tribute I'm in charge of is-

"Terry Kartcher!"

My lips part and I gasp. I feel my heart drop to my stomach, and my hands and feet turn to ice. I watch as the girl I love walks shakily to the stage, blinking profusely. Her brother takes a few steps forward but is held back by their father, who sheds a few silent tears. Terry makes it to the stage and looks at me helplessly, but I have to act like she's just another tribute. Our close friends and family in the District know that we're together, but we can't tell many people because everyone is supposed to think that I'm with Alicia.

"Dibbs," I whisper to Angus.

While I know that it would get Terry an insane amount of sponsors if people knew that she was my girlfriend, I can't risk my and Alicia's life in saying so. If the President found out that I wasn't really dating Alicia...

"Do we have any volunteers?" Piper asks, scanning the crowd. "Well, in that case, I present to you, District 10, your tributes for the 227th annual Hunger Games: Terry Kartcher and Rowan Griffey! Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

I watch as the two are taken into the Justice Building and then turn to Angus.

"Can I visit either of them?" I ask, unsure of the etiquette, what with this being my first year mentoring.

"No," he says. "But you'll see them both on the train."

Well, I was right. If they weren't going to pick one of my siblings, having me mentor my girlfriend was a good way to get a reaction out of me.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Rowan Griffey (16) POV**

 **District 10 male**

Once I got over my initial anger for being Reaped, I let my mind quiet itself as I sat neatly on the couch in the Justice Building. Getting Reaped for the Hunger Games is a pretty shitty thing to happen, but what's done is done and there's no changing it. I'm not going to waste my energy being upset about it because all that will do is make me more tired and stressed before the Games actually start. I think having a clear state of mind is something that a lot of tributes don't have, and it's often their downfall. Being able to think will help me in and of itself.

The door to my room opens up and my family files in one by one; first my father, then my mother, then Olivia and finally Rachele. Mom and Olivia are crying hysterically and Dad and Rachele have their mouths set in a line, mimicking my anger.

"This shouldn't have happened to you!" Mom wails. "You only had two more after this."

"You're the youngest one," Dad whispers. "Why did it have to be you?"

Even though it's the last thing I want to say, I grit my teeth and say it for my family's sake.

"Remember, it's part of God's plan, guys," I say. "It'll be okay."

"I'm gonna miss you, Rowan," Olivia says, wrapping me in a hug.

"Me too," Rachele says half-heartedly, looking down. "Hey, if you die, can I have your room? I'm sick of sharing with Olivia."

"Rachele!" Dad scolds, looking surprised.

"Kidding!" she says, smiling. "It was a joke!"

I laugh and say "Sure," causing everyone to laugh a little. We do what we can to make conversation for the next several minutes until a Peacekeeper comes in to escort them out. I give each of them a hug before they leave, and when the door closes behind them, I sit back down on the couch.

It's not surprising when the door opens again and my only really close friend, Bri, walks in. I stand to greet her and she hugs me immediately. We stay hugging for a while, unsure of who's comforting who, but she eventually breaks it.

"Did your family give you a token to take into the arena?" she asks.

I furrow my brow. I guess they didn't. I'm sure they meant to, but they were probably distracted.

"No," I say. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a tan leather bracelet with the word "Courage" etched on it. I look at Bri and smile.

"So you remember while you're in there," she says, trailing off.

"Thank you," I say, hugging her again.

We break the hug when the Peacekeeper comes back to take Bri away, and she does so quietly, not wanting any trouble.

I sit down on the couch again and wait for my District partner to be done with her visitors so we can board the train.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Terry Kartcher (18) POV**

 **District 10 female**

As scared as I was to be Reaped, I can't say that I thought I actually would be. It was my last Reaping, so I had more of a chance this year than any other year, but I haven't ever taken out any tessera, so it came as a shock when I was picked over someone with far more entries.

Unless I was chosen on purpose?

I don't entertain the thought for long. It must have just been a coincidence that I was chosen the year after Fenton won during my last year of eligibility. An unlikely coincidence, sure, but the Capitol has no reason to have it out for Fenton, to my knowledge, so they wouldn't need to arbitrarily pick me. Besides, everyone in the Capitol thinks that Fenton is dating Alicia Schripe, so if anything, they just think that we're close friends.

My first visitors, unsurprisingly, are my parents and Will. They all hug me at once, and I wish that the moment could be frozen like that, away from the thoughts of my probably imminent death.

"How are you holding up?" Will asks.

"I've been better," I say, adjusting my weight.

"Terry, I'm sure you can make it out of that arena alive," Dad says. "Kids from 10 have more abilities than people usually give them credit for."

"Really?" I ask.

"I have faith in you," Mom says. "We would try to give you a token, but there's someone out there who's insistent that he wants to give you one."

"Fenton?" I ask, hopefully.

"Not quite," Dad says. "He's not allowed to visit you because he's mentoring. I asked."

"Do you know which of us he's mentoring?" I ask.

"I'm not sure," he says.

I sit down on a chair and sigh, and the rest of my family sits as well. I'm at a loss for what to say, so I don't say anything and neither do they. We just sit in comfortable silence until a Peacekeeper takes them away and Kendra walks in.

"There was a guy out there who told me he was sorry that he couldn't see you," she says immediately. "He had to go work. Said his name was Ike."

"Okay," I say, slightly confused. If not Ike or Fenton, who is it that has a token for me? Kendra?

"What's your token?" she asks as if reading my mind.

"I don't have one yet," I say. "My dad said someone else was going to give me one. I thought it would be you or Ike."

"Oh," she says. "It's not me. I mean I'm sure I have something you could have. I have my necklace-"

"Don't worry about it," I say.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Kendra says. "Your family really can't catch a break."

"You're telling me," I say, laughing. We both laugh for a moment and then the room goes silent.

"I don't know what to say," she says, apologetically. "I'm just really sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," I say. "It's not your fault."

"I guess," she says. We spend the rest of our time together in silence, for lack of knowing what else to do. She eventually leaves, and I wait patiently for whoever it is that's bringing my token.

The Peacekeeper reopens the door and in walks Maxwell and Maddy Henderson; Fenton's father and sister. I burst into tears as soon as I see them because it becomes real that this could very well be the last time I see anyone that I know. Maddy runs to hug me and I eventually control myself enough to stop.

"I'm really sorry, Terry," Maxwell says. "We wanted to bring you something that you could bring into the arena. If you want it, anyway."

"It was my idea," Maddy brags, grinning widely.

Maxwell reaches into his pocket and pulls out three pieces of leather braided together into one piece; two are tan and one is chocolate brown. I take it, mildly confused and look up at him, questioning.

"The lighter ones are from your horse's reins," he says, adjusting his weight. "The dark one is from Fenton's."

"I braided it," Maddy says. "Mom helped me."

"Thank you so much," I say, taking it. "Thank you both."

"Not a problem," he says. Maxwell has never been good in sentimental moments like these, so the two of us stand in awkward silence for a moment until Maddy breaks it.

"Can I braid your hair?" she asks, looking up to meet my eye.

"Sure," I say, giving her a hair tie from my wrist. She sits down on the floor, motioning for me to join her and I do. We spend the rest of the time with her braiding my hair and her father sitting uncomfortably in a wooden chair.

Eventually, the Peacekeeper returns, telling them that they have to leave and soon after, Piper comes to the door with Rowan in tow.

* * *

 **Massive thank you to Fifidear for Terry (and Fenton) and Jamez S for Rowan!**

 **Congratulations to Mykindleisawesome for being my 200th reviewer!**

 **Everybody loves reviews, and it's no secret that I love your feedback. However, small amounts of reviews make me sad, especially coming from a background of having a lot more because I went away for a little while for my own mental health, told y'all that I'd be gone a while and when I come back, my average review per chapter goes from 21 to like 5. It's just disheartening, I guess. But thanks very much to Mykindleisawesome, LiaRegie, Lya200, and Jms2 for consistently reviewing. Your support means the world. And for the people who don't review, I've already started thinking about who's going to kill your character in the bloodbath. Not because I'm petty, but because if you don't review or otherwise communicate with me, I will assume that you're no longer reading, and if you're not reading I have no reason to keep your character around. Further, I like to feel like people enjoy and appreciate what I do, and a lack of reviews makes it seem like people don't.**

 **People are 70% water and I am 100% salt.**

 **Anyway, this was a crazy long chapter. I really don't think they'll be like this anymore. Don't get used to it.**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Terry or Rowan?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	15. District 11 Reaping

_I've never heard silence quite this loud.  
_ -Taylor Swift

* * *

The Mayor's House (The Simon Residence), June 16th, 11:00 am

 **Adelaide Simon (15) POV**

 **District 11 female**

I wake up the morning of the Reaping slightly groggy and disoriented. Nightmares kept me up the night before, and my subconscious didn't seem to leave anything out; from being locked in a closet with my old best friend's rotting corpse- Big thanks to Ambrose Chap of District 1 for killing him- to being tortured in the Capitol for rebellion details to being sent into the Games myself (Which wouldn't surprise me, considering everything I've done), my night was restless, to say the least. All I want is ten more minutes of sleep, but looking at the clock next to my bed, I see that I've already slept far longer than I meant to. I wanted to get up at 8:00 this morning to spend time with my family, but I must have fallen asleep as soon as I turned my alarm off.

I swing my legs off the bed, stand, and stretch. My hair hangs around the nape of my neck in a messy bun, as disheveled as I feel. I rub my eyes and walk to the bathroom attached to my room, groggily turning on the shower head on with cold water in an attempt to wake me up. I step into the shower tentatively, recoiling at my idea of using cold water. I'm woken up before my hair even gets wet, so I change it to warmer water.

When I'm done showering, I step out and brush my teeth and dry and brush my hair before going back to my room. I cross the room to my closet and pull out the soft knee-length peach dress designated for the Reaping and put it on. I step into a pair of low white heels and sit down at my vanity. I put on minimal makeup and put half of my hair in a bun at the crown of my head. Lastly, I secure a silver and green hairpin into the top of the bun. The green doesn't match the peach, but I don't care. The pin was Jasper's token in the arena and I've worn it in my hair every day since he died and the pin was returned to me.

I walk down the stairs slowly, knowing that no matter how small the height difference is, heels mixed with stairs makes a death trap if you're not careful. It seems to take forever to get down the stairs and to the downstairs hallway, but I do eventually and make my way to the large living room where my parents are watching TV and drinking coffee.

"So the zombie lives," Mom jokes. "How was your night, dear?"

"I've had better," I say, casually.

"If it's any consolation, I really don't think you'll be Reaped," Dad says. "You're my daughter, after all."

"I don't know, Dad," I say. "Two Mayor's kids were in the Games last year."

The conversation dies, but my father speaks again in an effort to not be sitting in an uncomfortable silence.

"Remember, Addy, I have a conference in District 2 tomorrow and I have to leave right after the Reaping," Dad says. "Your mother's coming with me, so you'll be on your own for dinner the next bunch of nights."

"Thanks for reminding me," I say, going into the kitchen for some food. The Reaping starts in about two hours, and even though the District Square is basically my front yard, I'd prefer to be completely ready well before it starts. I don't like feeling rushed. It's noon so I should eat lunch, but I just woke up an hour ago so I should eat breakfast. I'm conflicted on what to eat but I eventually settle on a bowl of cereal with some fruit. It's more breakfast than anything else but I want something that I can just eat quickly.

I sit down at the table and eat my food, contemplating the hours to come. I'm almost positive that I'll be Reaped, and I'm even more certain that there will be no volunteer. I feel a pang of resentment towards the Victor of the last Quarter Quell, Alicia Schripe, for putting me in the position that I'm in. She didn't directly put in a request for me to go into the Games, but she did recruit myself and several others for a rebellion that's made almost no progress in the past two years of its existence, and when the President found out about it, I left, taking a bunch of the others with me because none of us felt safe. I did some pretty sketchy things following that- most notably posing as a Hunger Games sponsor from the Capitol named Amelia- and all of this has contributed to the massive target on my back. I know that if I'm not Reaped immediately (which is unlikely), I definitely won't live to be 19 unless I win the Games. Which, again, is unlikely.

When I finish my food, I put my dishes in the sink and go to the living room to sit with my parents. I would have eaten in there, but they have a strict No Food In The Living Room policy because they're afraid of getting the furniture messed up. It's not that we couldn't afford to repair or replace it, it's just that that's a lot of work and everyone in my family is incredibly busy doing other things. My dad is the Mayor of District 11 and my mom is a foreign ambassador from District 12. People seem to think that having successful parents would make me quite popular, but I actually have a really hard time making friends. I find that most people tend to think that I'm stuck up or spoiled, so they avoid me, and those who don't avoid me use me for what I can't control. My only really close friend was Jasper Sarunski, the Mayor's kid from District 12 who I met through my mom, but the Games took him from me and I haven't made another best friend. Since his death, I just sit in my room by myself or talk to my parents when they're actually around.

Teenage angst aside, I do have a really good life, especially compared to the other people in my District. 11 is the second poorest District next to 12, and because of my parents, I get to live in luxury. All my life, I've had a roof over my head and food on the table, and I honestly couldn't be more grateful. I just wish they were around more to enjoy the life we have with me. Especially my mother. She's in 12 about as often as she's at home, so having her around for the Reaping would actually be a good thing had it not been for such a terrible occasion.

"What are you planning to do after the Reaping, Adelaide?" Mom asks.

Boarding a train? Being mentored? Making my way to the Capitol? Dying in the next two weeks? I can't say that. Mom and Dad know that I went to the Capitol during the Games last year, but they think I was just meeting Alicia and getting to see what it's like in the Capitol during Hunger Games season. I've done a pretty good job of hiding things from them, so they have no idea that the odds are stacked against me.

"Not much," I say. "Probably reading. Might paint my nails."

"Sounds fun," she says.

"Should be," I say. "Do you mind if I turn on the TV?"

"Go for it," Dad says.

I grab the remote and turn on a random channel. A purple-haired Capitolite is on the screen with a microphone being held to her face, giggling about how excited she was for the Reapings. She's asked what her favorite part of the Hunger Games process was and said the bloodbath. That's just sick. _My favorite part is when six to twelve children die all at once!_ If she had said it like that, the Games would be ruined, but she just sees it as an entertainment form. That's why I wanted to be in the rebellion in the first place; I thought it would just be street rallies and people turning off their televisions when the Games came on, but when Alicia, Dylan, and Alana started training children in weapons in order to overthrow the Capitol and lead to government reform, I realized that that was no better than the Games themselves. Sure, it's not for entertainment purposes, but it's still children becoming murderers and possibly being killed themselves for a "greater purpose." Both options were repellant in their own way.

Looking back, though, I can see why that was their tactic. Maybe the Capitol wouldn't think that child murderers were so entertaining when they were the ones dying.

We watch the show for about a half hour, each of us taking turns sighing and shaking our heads at the thought processes of the Capitolites. Honestly, these people can find a way to justify anything. The show finishes at 1:30, giving us enough time to leave the house and be early to the Reaping, which we do. We leave the house and take the three-minute walk to the District Square where the rest of the District is either in their areas, waiting in line or approaching the Square. I pretty quickly see the siblings of the boy who was Reaped last year. The oldest one just turned 12 this year and is wrestling with the other two, trying to get them to the spectators' area. The sight breaks my heart, reminding me why I hate the Games in the first place.

A strange sentiment to have right before getting in line for them. I give them a curt nod and a wave before stepping to the back of the line.

* * *

The Levionne Residence, June 16th, 1:00 pm

 **Coy Levionne (12) POV**

 **District 11 male**

" _I want Ralix!"_

"I know, Ryland," I say, trying in vain to comb out my sister's tangled hair. How did Ralix do this every day? "Tivel, are you ready for the Reaping? We have to leave in 20 minutes or we'll be late!"

"I can't figure out my buttons!" he calls.

"Come here, then!" I shout back. I keep brushing Ryland's hair until it's relatively tame, apologizing profusely every time she flinches. I was able to do this every once in a while when my brother was still... Around. But doing it twice a day has become a struggle. I don't know how her hair gets so tangled when all she does is go to school. Since the end of the Games last year, I've stopped going to school and started working in the fields, because in the span of two weeks, both people who could work died. My older brother Ralix accidentally killed our uncle Mare the day of the Reaping last year in a fist fight- don't ask me how that happened- and he was Reaped for the Games that same day.

Since the end of the Games last year, I've stopped going to school and started working in the fields, because in the span of two weeks, both people who could work died. My older brother Ralix accidentally killed our uncle Mare the day of the Reaping last year in a fist fight- don't ask me how that happened- and he was Reaped for the Games that same day. Tivel, Ryland and I ran away, knowing that a Community Home would take us away without any legal guardian, and we found a small shack at the edge of the District where District 11 meets the woods and have stayed there ever since. Ralix managed to place eighth, being killed by the twelve-year-old girl from District 8. Everyone in the District was crushed. Whether we were close to him or not, everyone wanted the extra food rations that come with having a victor. District 11 hasn't seen a Parcel Day in my lifetime.

Once Ryland's hair is smoothed down, I do what I can to put it in a feeble ponytail then motion for Tivel to come over to where I am. The buttons on his shirt are all wrong, so I fix them just like Ralix did last year.

"Are you both ready?" I ask, looking at the clock on the wall. "We have to leave in... 15 minutes. Preferably earlier. Preferably now."

"Can I eat first?" Ryland asks, looking up at me. "I'm hungry."

"Me too," Tivel says, sheepishly.

"I was going to eat when we got back from the Reaping..." I hesitate. "But I guess we can eat on the way."

I take two apples off the shelf on the wall and cut them both up into slices, giving half to Ryland and half to Tivel. I'll survive another few hours without something to eat, but at 7 and 8, they're a lot younger than me and don't know how to be hungry. We start the walk to the Square which seems to take forever with both of them complaining that they're still hungry and that their feet hurt from walking. I refrain from telling them that the alternative is being publicly executed for missing the Reaping. Barely.

Once we finally make it to the Square, I have to explain to them again that I have to wait in line, stand in the Square and wait for the Reaping to be over to retrieve them from the section where people wait if they're not of Reaping age. While I'm trying to instruct them on what to do and how not to be kidnapped, the mayor's daughter Adelaide flounces over, her hair and dress literally blowing in the wind she's creating by walking. How does she manage to look flawless every time I see her, but I can't even get a brush through my sister's hair? She gives me an uncomfortable wave which I return, suddenly aware that everyone here knows who Ryland, Tivel and I are and are looking at us with a sense of pity and condolences. It makes me uncomfortable.

The two finally understand what they're supposed to do, so I send them over to where they're supposed to be and get in line to have my blood drawn for the first time. The line moves relatively quickly once I get in it, and before I know it, my blood is drawn and I'm told to stand with the other twelve-year-olds. Between my age and the tessera I took out, my name is only in the males' bowl four times, which is definitely not bad compared to some people. Ralix had 30 entries when he got Reaped, and his District partner had 32. Bigger families call for more tessera, thus more entries to be Reaped.

After waiting around for a bit, District 11's escort of several years, Aphrodite, steps onto the stage, taking the breath out of half of the boys that are of Reaping age. She really is as beautiful as her namesake.

"Hi there, District 11!" she trills. "As you all know, we're here today for the Reaping of the 227th annual Hunger Games! We got super close to having a winner last year, so maybe this year, we'll fulfill that dream? What do you say?"

A few people clap half-heartedly, not wanting to be rude. Despite having a rather disgusting job, Aphrodite seems pretty genuinely nice.

"What do you guys say? Ladies first?" There's no response, so she strides over to the female Reaping bowl, her dress trailing behind her. She digs around a bit before deciding on a certain slip of paper towards the middle. She carries it over to the microphone keeping the name clutched in her hand and unraveling it as soon as she gets to the middle of the stage.

"Adelaide Simon!" she calls.

The mayor's daughter? The close personal friend of last year's District 12 male? It can't be. I guess I always thought that people like that were exempt for some reason. Adelaide walks up to the stage looking calm and serene, her shoulders thrown back and her chin in the air. When she makes it to the stage from the 15-year-old section, she gives a closed mouthed, squinty-eyed smile at the cameras at the back.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Aphrodite asks. Nobody steps forward and Adelaide smiles again, this time, more sarcastically. "If there isn't a volunteer, let's move onto the boys, shall we?"

She crosses to the other side of the stage and digs around again as if trying to select the perfect name. She decides on one after a moment and I hold my breath as she walks back to the microphone.

"Coy Levionne!" she calls, cheerily. Immediately after, her face drops. "Oh dear, not Ralix's younger brother?"

I feel the wind being knocked out of me, but I make my way up to the stage as calmly as I can, more worried about Tivel and Ryland than I am for myself. I would hate to see them put in a Community Home. As I mount the stage and stand next to Adelaide, Aphrodite turns to me.

"You are Ralix's brother, correct?"

"Yes," I say. Immediately after saying it, I can't remember if I actually said it or if I was just thinking it, so I repeat myself. "Yes. I am."

"Well, that's some luck now isn't it!" she says. Her mouth is smiling but her eyes carry some pain, almost as if she feels bad for me. "Any volunteers to take the glory away from the Levionne family today?"

As with Adelaide, nobody volunteers, but I wasn't expecting anyone to, so I'm not disappointed when no one does. Adelaide and I turn to each other and give the same uncomfortable nod as before.

"Well, if there are no volunteers then I present you with District 11's tributes for the 227th Hunger Games! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

"Good luck," I whisper.

"You as well," Adelaide says back.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Adelaide Simon (15) POV**

 **District 11 female**

I'm not surprised when the only people to come visit me are my parents. Actually, to be honest, I'm quite surprised. I thought they would have to leave for District 2 immediately after the Reaping, so the fact that they could stick around to have their last few minutes with me before I go to the Capitol was nice, to say the least. A diamond in the rough, so to say.

"Addie, we can't believe this happened to you," Dad says. "We're so sorry."

"It's okay," I say. "I kind of expected it, in all honesty."

"How?" Mom asks. "What do you mean?"

I hesitate. "You know how sometimes, you just know?" I ask, rhetorically. "Somehow I guess I just knew."

"That's fair enough," she says. "Do you want a token? I'm sure your father or I have something on us that you could use."

"Thanks, but no," I say. "I'm just gonna use my hair pin. Jasper used it as his token last year, so..." I trail off.

"I understand," Dad says. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Nothing I can think of," I respond, honestly. "Just stay here?"

"Of course," they say in unison.

Following that, we're all at a loss for what to say. Our family has never been especially touchy-feely, so a time when we're all supposed to be affectionate is a bit unnerving for all of us. With nothing else to do or say, we decide to stay quiet, sitting in uncomfortable silence for the remainder of their time with me. Silence goes by slowly, but right when the Peacekeeper comes to collect my parents, they decide what to say.

"We'll miss you very much, Adelaide," Mom says. "Promise me that you'll try to come back to us in one piece."

I don't want to upset her, but that's not a promise I can make or keep, so I keep my mouth shut. Luckily, my parents are removed before my silence becomes too unbearable.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Coy Levionne (12) POV**

 **District 11 male**

I'm ushered into the Justice Building and put into a room seemingly made entirely out of mahogany and velvet. I collapse on the couch but feel nothing, almost as if it's not me that this is happening to; that I'm just watching it happen to someone else. My head goes sort of fuzzy and I start to feel mildly dizzy, so I shut my eyes. I've never had an out of body experience before, but this seems similar to how people describe them. I come crashing back down to Earth again when Tivel and Ryland come bursting into the room flanking Ralix's old friend Geano.

"They found your shed," Geano says immediately. "And they're planning on taking Ryland and Tivel to a Community Home since Mare died. All four of you should have gone, but Ralix died and the rest of you hid."

"Oh my God," I hesitate. My head starts spinning again.

"No, Coy, it's okay," he says, desperately trying to make me listen. "I just turned 18 last month. Legally, I can adopt them."

"Wait, are you serious?" I ask, bewildered.

"Yes, 100%," he says. "The two of them both said they were okay with it."

"Then it's fine with me," I say.

"Where are you going, Coy?" Tivel asks.

"I'm..." I hesitate. "I'm going where Ralix is."

"Are you coming back?" Ryland asks.

"Maybe not," I admit. "But you're going to stay with Geno, okay?"

"Okay," Tivel says. "Will you tell Ralix that we miss him?"

"Definitely," I say.

Before we have time to say anything else, a Peacekeeper comes to the door and stands expectantly in the doorway. I give Tivel and Ryland each a quick hug and Ryland reaches into her dress pocket and hands me the necklace that Ralix wore into the arena last year; two swords crossing in the middle. I take it and put it on, giving her another hug. I give my thanks to Geano and then they're gone.

* * *

 **I'm not going to thank myself for creating Adelaide because I'm not that pretentious, so thanks to Lulubell2495 for the original idea for Adelaide in the first place**. **So thanks to Gunny979 for Coy.**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Adelaide or Coy?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	16. District 12 Reaping

_I am easily satisfied with the best._  
-Winston Churchill

* * *

The Apothecary, June 16th, 12:30 pm

 **Tessa Ray (15) POV**

 **District 12 female**

If I owned District 12 and hell, I'd sell District 12 and live in hell. It's a sentiment that I've expressed many times to anyone that'll listen because it's true. Girls like me are meant for the white sand beaches of District 4 or the luxury of District 1. So how exactly is it that I got stuck in coal mining District 12, where everything is covered in black dust and nobody gives two shits about anything but surviving? I mean, it's not that hard to make money. My mom's side of the family started a small store with medicine generations ago, and we've been above average in wealth ever since. I don't see how it's so hard to come up with a new idea and start a business based off of it. I mean, people have been doing it since the dawn of the human race, so why is it that people think it's so goddamn hard to just come up with a new idea. Granted, I can't think of anything off the top of my head, but that's just because I'm not really trying. I'm sure that if my life was on the line and I needed to come up with an idea for a business in order to save my family, I'd have no problem doing so.

That being said, I absolutely hate the idea of work, so if I were to establish a business, I would need other people to do the work for me while I supervised. Girls like me aren't meant to work hard for things; things are supposed to be handed to us on a silver platter. While my mother deals with a customer at the cash box, I sit on a stool by the wall, letting my hair fall into my lap while lazily doodling on the wooden counter top with a black felt tipped marker.

"Tessa Marie!" my mother yells, interrupting her exchange with the customer. "How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

I roll my eyes, beyond caring if she could see. "Apparently, more than you already have."

"Clean it up, Tessa."

"Pass."

"Clean. It. Now."

"Oh my God, I'm so scared," I say, getting up to get a rag. Knowing that she would make me clean the mess, I used a marker that I knew would come off with nothing more than water. I clean up the swirls and flowers easily, slightly bothered that the part of the counter that I cleaned was cleaner than the rest, but not bothered enough to do anything about it. I sit back down on my stool and tap my fingernails on the counter with nothing better to do until the Reaping starts.

Bored, I consider going upstairs to the apartment above the apothecary where my parents and I live. No siblings and boring parents, life is about as dull as you'd think it would be. I'm so bored after mere minutes sitting at the counter that I almost consider going back upstairs to bed, but I look down at my outfit- a short green dress with gold lace up sandals- as well as my makeup and realize that if I took a nap, it would take forever to get ready again, so I decide to people watch for the time being.

Across the shop, an older woman is sitting in a chair, waiting for my mother to call her number. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and notice her pick her nose and wipe it on the chair. Gross, I better not have to clean that up. She's too gross for me to handle, so I look away, focusing my attention on a blonde woman with blue eyes in her mid-twenties, holding a matching blonde-haired blue-eyed child by his hand. The kid coughs into his mom's skirt several times and blows his nose before bursting into tears. Pertussis. Not surprising, it's spreading like wildfire this season. I guess I feel bad for the kid, but not bad enough to actually do anything to help him. I think it would be funny if something bad happened to him; serves him right for playing with disgusting sick kids.

Eventually, Mom finishes helping all of those people and the bell at the front of the store rings. In walks a Seam girl with greasy black hair and gray eyes darting all over the store. She scratches her arm and I notice a blistery rash all over her arms and legs. Poison ivy, by the looks of it. But how? District 12 isn't the most foliage-dense place in Panem- I wouldn't be shocked if we were in District 7 or 11, but 12 is out of the ordinary- so the only way she could have come in contact with the plant would be if it was in someone's garden or if she ventured into the woods. The first is unlikely, as even people living in the Seam weren't stupid enough to let poison ivy grow in their gardens, so the more likely option is the woods. I had heard of people going to the woods to hunt for food, but I didn't think anyone would actually do it. I mean, hunting is punishable by death, but going through trash bins for food scraps is free and perfectly legal. I wouldn't think that anyone from the Seam would have enough pride to want to avoid that. She approaches my mom but I wave her down.

"Don't worry, Mom!" I chirp. "I got it!"

The girl smiles and approaches me, and I hoist myself onto and behind the counter, motioning for her to sit down on the stool that I was sitting in.

"Hi, my name is Tessa," I say, pulling my hair into a ponytail and pulling out some strands. "What brings you here today…?"

"Lexi Flint," she supplies. Cute name. Maybe a cute girl too if she actually took care of herself. "Short for Alexis, but I like Lexi better. I think I'm having an allergic reaction to, um, almonds."

"Almonds?" I ask, quizzically. "Hmm…"

"What?" she asks, panicked.

"It's just that usually an allergic reaction to nuts and legumes is more... Red," I say, narrowing my eyes slightly. "More like hives. This is blistery and only red around the edges."

"What are you implying?"

"I don't think this is an almond allergy. It looks like poison ivy."

"Poison ivy?"

"Yes," I say, resting my elbows on the counter. "But I don't have the faintest idea where you could have contracted it. That is unless you went into the woods." She shifts uncomfortably, and I put on a fake grin in an attempt to look excited. "Oh my God, you did!"

"Look, you can't tell anyone," she says, desperately. "I could get in a lot of trouble."

"Oh definitely not," I say firmly. "I won't tell a soul. God, that's so ballsy. I wish I could do something like that."

"Really?" she asks. "Because I just needed to feed my family is all."

"Of course," I say, reaching behind the counter for a tube. "Anyway, here's some cream, it'll make the rash go away in no time. That'll be $20."

She painstakingly hands me some money and I smile, tucking the money into my apron. She shoves the tube into her bag before rushing to the door, but I stop her.

"Wait here, okay?" I ask. She nods. "Excuse me."

I go over to my mother and hand her the money that Lexi gave me, tell her what she told me and then go into the back room for the phone. I dial the Peacekeepers' phone number and someone picks up the phone after a few rings.

"Peacekeepers' office, District 12, how may I help you?" asks a pleasant female voice.

"Hi, this is Elise Ray at the apothecary," I say, using my mother's name. "We have a young girl, Miss Alexis Flint who's admitted to illegally hunting in the woods."

"We'll send someone right over," the secretary says.

"Thank you!"

Some people just want to watch the world burn, and I'm one of them. I wait in the back room, peeking through the blinds that connect the back room with the storefront. Within a few minutes, two Peacekeepers show up and talk to my mother who points at Lexi. The Peacekeepers talk to her and she shakes her head furiously and starts crying. The two grab her by the arms and take her away. As she leaves, I go back into the storefront and sit back down on the stool. After only a moment, I hear the _bang_ of a gunshot.

Sighing, I slump down in my seat, already bored because everyone in the room is so boring. If only I lived in District 1 or 4, maybe then I'd be entertained. But no, I'm stuck in dingy, ugly District 12 full of dingy, ugly people.

The bell dings once again, and I eat my words immediately. The boy who just walked through the door was the exact opposite of ugly (maybe a little bit dingy though.) With the same kind of rugged sensuality as the better looking Seam kids coupled with the actual hygiene of, well, me, I decide that he'll do just fine.

* * *

The Bakery, June 16th, 1:00 pm

 **Adrian Jr. Burrow (15) POV**

 **District 12 male**

After being politely asked to leave the bakery by the uptight woman who was working at the front desk, I decide to try the apothecary. The lady had a stick up her ass, and kept yelling at me for "harassing her daughters." I got sick of it just as she told me to go. Walking across the street and down a short way, I check the windows of other stores in case there's someone in a closer location. There isn't.

Just before I go to the apothecary, I hear a gunshot and look to the Square to see a girl about my age falling to her knees with her hands cuffed. In the distance, a young boy screams and my eyes widen. People aren't often executed on Reaping Day.

I walk into the apothecary and am immediately stunned by the girl sitting at the counter. She's cute, and by her very demeanor, I can tell she knows exactly how attractive she is. Her red hair falls past her shoulders, dead straight, and her light green eyes find mine, then dart to her lap. I smirk. Haven't even started talking to the girl, and it's already working. Sauntering over to her, I make sure she knows that it's her I'm aiming for. I don't want to catch her too off guard. I make my way over to her, standing in front of where she's sitting and smiling down at her.

"Hey baby girl," I say, maintaining my smile. "Do you-"

"Don't 'baby girl' me," she says.

This has never happened to me before. My smile falters, and I pray she didn't see it. "What do you mean?"

"Don't call me that. It's weird."

"Then what should I call you?" I ask, regaining my composure.

A beat. "Jasmine," she says.

"Well Jasmine," I continue. "Do you come here often?"

"On occasion," she says, meeting my eye before glancing slightly down. "My best friend looks here and I'm filling in for her."

"How kind of you," I say, leaning in. "People must say you're quite the selfless person."

"On occasion," she says, twirling a strand of reddish hair around her finger. "I just do my best to please other people when I can."

"Wonderful," I say. "Hey, what are you doing after the Reaping? I think I'd like to get to know you better, Jasmine."

"I'm not busy," she says, smirking.

"Meet me here at 3?" I suggest.

"I'll be here," she says.

"See you then," I say, turning around to leave. I have her under my spell after not even five minutes, and later on, I get to look at her again. But for the time being, I need to get home to get ready for the Reaping, and to figure out how to break up with Theresa. I've messed around with other girls before, but that Jasmine girl was really hot. More so than all the rest of them.

I start walking down the town directly to the Square. With both of my parents being Peacekeepers from District 2, our family is relatively wealthy and we leave in close proximity to the Mayor, the Justice Building and the District Square. I get to the house and open the front door, letting myself in. As expected, I find both of my parents away, working even on Reaping Day, but my younger brother Anthony is sitting on the couch in the living room, watching TV.

"Hey, you gotta get ready for the Reaping, alright?" I say to him. He nods, not really listening. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah," he says, changing the channel.

"Alright," I say, leaving the room to go upstairs.

I duck into my room and go to my closet and take out a deep navy blue suit and putting it on with a matching tie. It's a bit ill-fitting since it's my father's, but I don't have much else to wear that's actually nice so I wear it despite the wrong fit and the fact that it belongs to my father. The two of us don't have the best relationship due to him neglecting Anthony and me for his job as Head Peacekeeper. I mess up my hair a bit, and in the time it takes me to get ready, the bells go off, signaling that the Reaping is going to begin soon. I go back down the stairs and find Anthony dressed in a gray blazer.

"Ready to go?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says, turning off the TV.

"Second Reaping," I say as we walk. "Are you nervous?"

"Not really," he says, dryly. "I only have two slips, so…"

"Still," I say. "I'm not saying I think it'll be either of us, but you shouldn't try your luck."

He knows I'm right and has no response, so we walk the rest of the short way wordlessly. When we get to the Square, we both get into line for our fingers to get pricked so we can enter our pens. The line is relatively fast moving and I let Anthony go ahead of me. Once my blood is taken, I go to the 15-year-olds' section and meet with my best friend Glenn. Admittedly, I'm quite a bit more popular and well liked than he is, but we've been friends for as long as I can remember.

"Nervous?" he asks, shifting his weight.

"Nah," I respond. "You?"

"A bit," he admits. "I just can't shake this feeling."

"I get it," I say.

Just then, District 12's new escort mounts the stage. No one knows what happened to last year's escort, Pollianna, but she's evidently been replaced by a woman with hair the color of blood.

"Good afternoon, District 12!" she calls into the microphone at the center of the stage. "My name is Dixie Amber and I'm your new escort! I trust that we'll have a lot of fun together."

"She's acting like she's our babysitter who's trying to hook up with our dad," Glenn whispers. It takes everything in me not to burst out laughing.

"As you all know, today is the Reaping for the 227th annual Hunger Games. Now, I suppose since we usually start with the ladies, it couldn't hurt to start with the young men this year."

Dixie goes over to the male Reaping bowl and takes out a slip from the top of the mountain of bowls. She carries it over to the microphone and reads in a loud, clear voice "Adrian Burrow!"

I immediately look to Glenn, and he matches my wide-eyed expression. As shocked as I am, I know that my entire future relies on this moment, and if I'm going to put on an act, it needs to start now. I am Adrian Burrow, I repeat in my head. And I am going to win the Hunger Games. My mouth forms something that resembles a confident smile and I head up to the stage, shaking Dixie's hand when I get there.

"Do we have any volunteers?" she asks. Nothing. "Well, onto the ladies then."

She struts over to the other side of the stage and picks another slip off the very top and takes it back to center stage.

"Alexis Flint!"

There's a small cry from the spectators' section, but no girl steps forward. I look to Dixie, confused, and she puts a finger to her right ear.

"Oh dear," she says, shocked. "I've just received word that Alexis was executed earlier today. Looks like we need to pick a new tribute, then."

She goes back to the girls' bowl and pulls out another name, this time from further down in the bowl.

"This year's female tribute is Tessa Ray!"

A girl steps out of the 15-year-olds' section batting away a few tears from the corners of her eyes. Jasmine? Bitch gave me a fake name. I wonder how much of what she displays over the next few weeks will be real.

"Any volunteers for this young lady?" Dixie asks again. No response. "Well then, District 12, here are your tributes for the 227th Hunger Games: Tessa Ray and Adrian Burrow. Please shake hands. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I extend my hand for Tessa and she takes it, squeezing firmly. I squeeze it harder, and she flinches slightly.

This is going to be too much fun.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Tessa Ray (15) POV**

 **District 12 female**

As soon as I exit the stage and am safely away from the cameras in a room in the Justice Building, I crack a smile. I'm glad I was so easily able to think on my feet and turn on the tears; I'm not weak, but I'll let people think that I am. I'd get a lot of support from people from outer Districts as well as sympathetic sponsors if I "put on a brave face." It'll make me less intimidating and more approachable. Then I can put my plan into action. It's going to be so easy to find a boy my age and make him fall hopelessly in love with me, only to kill him in the end. He'll protect me, and when I don't need him anymore, I can dispose of him, Adrian wouldn't be preferable because it's not considered good sportsmanship to kill your District partner, but if I can't find anyone else, he'll do in a pinch. Victory is victory no matter how I got there; I'd rather go back to 12 hated than die in the arena.

I pull a makeup compact out of the purse I brought to the Reaping. The compact has three colors of eyeshadow and a blush as well as a mirror, and I use the mirror to make sure my mascara didn't smudge when I rubbed my eyes to wipe away "tears." Luckily, it didn't. I still look flawless.

A Peacekeeper sends in both of my parents at once, who sigh in exasperation.

"So I talked to the Head Peacekeeper about you getting Reaped," Dad says. "I told him that it's not fair to you that you got Reaped just because someone else made a stupid choice and got executed. Apparently, your District partner is the Head Peacekeeper's son, and he said that if his kid had to go into the Games, so did mine."

"That's ridiculous," Mom says. "His son was Reaped fair and square. You did nothing to deserve this, Tessa, I want you to know that."

"If you die in that arena," Dad says. "I'm suing. End of story. This is completely absurd."

"I'm not gonna die, guys," I say, tossing my hair. "Sponsors are going to adore me, I'll do just fine. It'll be a piece of cake."

"Try your best anyway," Mom says. "If you die, we lose an employee and I don't trust anyone else to work for us."

"I got it," I say. "I think for my token, I'm gonna take my makeup pallet."

"That might get taken away before the Games start," Dad says, rolling his eyes. "You could use the mirror to start a fire."

"Dammit," I say, rifling around in my purse once more. I procure a hairbrush. "I'll bring this then."

"Good plan," Mom says. "If you're going to rely on sponsors and allies, you'll need to keep up appearances."

"That's true," I say, nodding.

Suddenly, a Peacekeeper comes back to take my parents away, and they leave without a protest. They wish me luck, I say goodbye and then they're gone. I wait for some people from school to come visit me, but no one does.

Weird.

* * *

The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm

 **Adrian Jr. Burrow (15) POV**

 **District 12 male**

I'm led into a room at the front of the Justice Building and slump down onto the couch, still floored that Jasmine or Tessa or whatever the hell her name is is my District partner. What are the odds that we'd both be Reaped? And the worst part is that I can't even hook up with her now because ever since the 74th Games, District partners from 12 who've played the romance card have had an approximately zero percent success rate. I hope there are other attractive girls besides Tessa because there were a lot last year and I would be extremely let down if there wasn't this year. Luckily, District 1 rarely disappoints.

The door at the front of the room creaks open and my brother stands in the doorway alone.

"Where are Mom and Dad?" I ask.

"They're Peacekeepers, stupid," he says, jokingly. "They're not allowed to visit."

"Right," I say, pretending I knew that all along.

"Are you okay?" he asks. I nod. "I'm sorry I jinxed you like that."

"Hey, it's not your fault," I say. "Just a coincidence, that's all."

"I guess," he says. "I just feel guilty is all. I mean, you might die and I can't help but feel a little bit responsible."

"Well don't," I say. "Trust me, I'm in it to win it. This won't be the last time you see me."

"Good," he says. "I'd miss you too much."

"Really?" I ask, touched.

"Yeah," he says. "Mom and Dad aren't ever around, so if I want someone to hang out with while my friends can't, you're the only one."

"Are you saying I'm never busy?" I ask, sarcastically.

"You're never too busy for me," he says, grinning.

The door opens again and the Peacekeeper stands, expectantly.

"That's true," I say to Anthony as he leaves. "When I get back, we're gonna hang out, okay?"

"Alright," he says. "Good luck!"

He's removed from the room, and as soon as he left, he's replaced by Glenn and Theresa.

"Adrian!" Theresa cries, running towards me. "I'm so-"

"We need to break up," I interrupt her.

"What?" she asks, her eyes filling with tears. "Why?"

Because Tessa is extremely hot.

"Because I might die in that arena," I say, contorting my face to look unhappy. "And if I do, I don't want you to be too attached to me. If I end up coming back, we can try this again, but until then…"

"I get it," she says, wiping away a tear. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

She rushes out of the room, a sobbing mess, and Glenn turns to me as soon as the door closes behind her.

"And the real reason is…?" he asks.

"I'm going to fuck Tessa before the Games," I say, casually. "I didn't need Theresa on my conscience."

"Classy," he says. "I didn't know you had morals to begin with. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," I say.

"Did your brother give you a token?" he asks.

"No," I say. He extends his hand and drops a deep blue marble into mine.

"This was going to be mine if I was Reaped," he says. "But if you don't have one, you can use it."

"Thanks," I say, smiling. "Hey, while I'm gone, if you want to get with Theresa-"

He shakes his head. "Nah, she's not my type."

Before we can say more, the Peacekeeper comes back, and he's brought away. I didn't even say goodbye, and he was my last visitor.

* * *

 **So it took literally over a year, but my Reapings are finally done! Hopefully, the rest of the story will go quicker. Thank you so much to Mykindleisawesome for Tessa, and minhosgirl for Adrian! There's a poll up where you can vote for your favorite tributes, so make sure you do that!**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Who do you like better, Tessa or Adrian?**

 **2) What did you like about them?**

 **3) What didn't you like about them?**

 **4) Any predictions?**

 **5) Who was your very favorite tribute aside from your own?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	17. Train Rides

_Someone you haven't even met yet is wondering what it would be like to know someone like you._  
-Iain Thomas

* * *

The Train, June 16, 3:00 pm

 **Avalon Xerxes (23) POV**

 **Victor of the 221st Hunger Games**

"I want you guys to watch the recap of the Reapings first thing," I tell Christopher and Alecto. "Food can wait. You need to check your competition."

"Yes, sir!" Christopher booms. I glare at him.

"Do you think this is a game?" I ask, staring into his eyes.

"It's called The Hunger Games for a reason," he says, smirking.

"I can't deal with him already," I say to Valarious, the other mentor. "I'm mentoring Alecto or I'm not mentoring at all."

"Fine," Valarious says. "Topher is projected to have the best shot of winning this year anyway."

"Really?" he asks. "I mean, I'm not surprised, but I thought maybe some of the other Careers would give me a run for my money, especially since I wasn't even supposed to volunteer this year."

"Neither were both tributes from 4," I say.

"You've already seen the Reapings?" he asks.

"Yes," I say. "And I advise you do the same."

Without any more hesitation, I turn on the TV to watch the recaps. Up first is District 1, and we watch a thin and pretty blonde girl volunteer from the 17-year-old section alongside a tall and equally attractive 18-year-old.

"I like them both," Topher says. Alecto nods in agreement.

Up next is District 2, and I sigh in exasperation when Topher volunteers instead of Romulus. Idiot. Despite that, both tributes look incredibly strong, standing on the stage with stony, confident expressions.

District 3 is next, and I shake my head all through it. Two terrified children are Reaped; a cute 14-year-old girl and a sobbing 13-year old boy. Both look beside themselves with fear and I'd be shocked if either of them made it past the bloodbath. I can only hope they're killed by either Alecto or Topher.

"Dibbs on the boy," Topher says.

"Okay," Alecto concedes.

District 4 is next, and while neither of them was supposed to volunteer, both 18-year-olds look as confident as they would if they were supposed to.

"Strong," Alecto notes.

"The boy is a first-year trainer at District 4's academy," Valarious says. "The girl was supposed to volunteer last year, but this year, she was only the backup volunteer, meaning that she's less talented now than she was previously."

"Very nice," Topher says. "I like all the Careers."

"Same," Alecto says, simply.

Boring, gray District 5 takes the screen and a small but fierce looking blonde girl is Reaped and steps out from the 17-year-old's section. Following her, an extremely eccentric looking 16-year-old emerges wearing clothes so bright, they make my eyes hurt. He's crying harder than the little one from 3.

"The boy is harmless," I say. "He might make it out of the bloodbath, but he won't last much longer than that. Watch the girl, though, especially because she's likely being mentored by Alicia. She'll have some tricks up her sleeve."

"Noted," Topher says.

Next is District 6, and this is the first non-Career District that carries two contenders. A few tears escape from the girl's eyes, but she seems strong despite that. The boy looks a bit shy, but he's tall and walks confidently. The two shake hands and the four of us nod our heads.

District 7 follows, and again, the girl seems much stronger than the boy. The girl is Reaped and steps out from the 18-year-old section- the first of that age since District 4- calmly. She has a pretty face and a muscular body. The boy, however, is 12 years old, scrawny and short, and runs away as soon as his name is called. Wimp.

"I like the girl," Topher says. "If the others are okay with it, I wouldn't mind if she was in our alliance." Alecto nods in agreement.

The show flips to District 8 and I'm mildly impressed. The girl has a cold, hard look about her, and I can tell she's got some fight in her. The boy doesn't look too mentally threatening, but he's pretty tall and slightly built.

"Watch them too," Valarious says. "They're not alliance material, but there's something about them."

"Understood," Topher says.

District 9 takes over and I'm back to disappointed sighing. The girl is crying hysterically, but the tears are happy. If she's happy to be Reaped, I don't think she'll allow herself to last long. The boy looks incredibly poor, with stained clothes and a mess of long, dirty hair.

"Don't worry about them," I say.

"Wasn't planning on it," Topher responds.

District 10 is next, and neither of them is too bad. The girl, a friend of last year's victor, doesn't look very physically threatening at all, but she's gorgeous, so she'll definitely get sponsors. The boy looks relatively average. No physical wonder like Julius or Topher, but definitely stronger than a lot of the other tributes.

"Look out for them," Valarious advises. Alecto and Topher both nod.

District 11 is shocking, even watching it for the second time. Both tributes were somehow related to tributes from last year's Games; the girl was the girlfriend of the boy from 12 last year and the boy was the boy from 11's brother. Unfortunately for them, they're both relatively small and generally weak looking.

"Is that Ralix Levionne's brother?" Topher asks.

"Yup," Valarious says.

"And Jasper's girlfriend," I add.

"Wow," Alecto whispers.

District 12 shows up last and I immediately hate both tributes all over again. Both have the "Look at me and how attractive I am!" look about them. They're probably going to get a lot of sponsors for their looks and confidence, and it irritates me. Winning the Hunger Games should not be that easy for someone in an outer District.

"Thoughts?" I ask the two tributes.

"I like both from 1 and 4 and the girls from 7 and 10," Topher says.

"Same," Alecto says.

"Okay, so here's the plan," Valarious starts. "Make friends with Linda, Julius, Penny and Dustin at the chariot rides. When you get to training, do what you're good at and make the others scared of you. If anyone tries to ally with you aside from those two girls, turn them down. However, you should make it seem like everyone has a chance. If you have people present a skill to you guys in the hopes of you joining and you turn them down, you can see what the other tributes are good at."

"That's a great idea," I say. "Way to present it as your own."

"It's what I do," he says with a boyish smile.

"So, what do you guys think?" I ask them.

"I'm in," Topher says. Alecto nods in agreement, and I smile.

"Excellent," I say.

* * *

The Train, June 16, 4:00 pm

 **Julius Helios (18) POV**

 **District 1 male**

"Well, this has been beneficial," Linda says after we finish watching the Reapings. "We've established that the only non-Careers worth allying with are the boys from 8 and 9. Can we eat now?"

"I second that," I say.

"Alright," says Linda's mentor, Irene Chap. Irene is Cyrus's brother (who's my mentor), and they lost their brother Ambrose to the 12-year-old girl from District 8 in last year's Games. They're both a bit bitter, seeing as how most people thought Ambrose would win. Whatever. The same District rarely wins twice in a row, so Ambrose's death has just made it easier for me to win.

The four of us head to the dining car where we meet Livian for an early dinner. There are trays full of roasted meats and vegetables, pasta with different sauces, soups, pitchers of drinks and bowls of fresh fruit. Even being from the wealthiest District and living in more luxury than most of the other Districts combined, Linda and I are shocked. I've never seen so much food outside of a cafeteria at one time.

I grab a large plate and load it up with roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables and gravy. Linda takes the same, but without the pasta and with salad instead of cooked vegetables. While we eat, Cyrus and Irene start talking.

"Do you two want to be trained together or separately?" Cyrus asks.

"I think together is fine," Linda says.

"Yeah, I agree," I say. "We've trained together since we were kids, and we're going to be allies anyway."

"Good," Irene says. "That makes it a lot easier for all five of us."

"Have you thought about our angles?" I ask, taking a bite of chicken. "How you're going to present us?"

"Well, Julius, you're quite physically intimidating," Cyrus says. "You're a top contender to be the leader of the Careers, so I'm planning on showcasing your strength, and your sheer ability to win the Games based on that alone."

"And Linda, you're honestly extremely pretty," Irene says. Linda beams. "You're the first District 1 girl in years who actually looks like she's from District 1. We want to play up your beauty and confidence as much as we can. The best way to get people to sponsor you is to make them want to sleep with you."

"That's reasonable," Linda says. She's always been beautiful and I've always been strong, so it comes as no surprise that those are the angles that have been chosen for us. I'm not going to complain, and I doubt Linda will either.

"Julius, are you okay with that?" Cyrus asks.

"Yeah," I say.

"Do you have a set plan for how you want us to behave in training?" Linda asks.

"On the first day, practice what you're already good at," Irene advises. "Make everyone else know that you're a force to be reckoned with, and assert your dominance over the other Careers. Second and third day, try to learn something new. You can never know too much."

"Focus on survival stations," Cyrus adds. "You can learn a lot about the arena based on the edible plant station."

"I guess I never thought of that," I say, wincing.

"Same," Linda says. "But that's really great advice. Thank you."

"It's what we're here for," Cyrus says. "It's literally our job to try to get one of you out of the arena alive."

"Makes sense," Linda says.

"Is there anything else you need to tell us today?" I ask.

"Is there anything else you need to know?" Cyrus asks.

"Not that I can think of," I say.

"Then no," he responds. "The real fun begins tomorrow at the Remake Center. The Tribute Parade is nothing to mess around with."

"So when we're done eating, you're free to go," Irene says. "Until tomorrow morning, that is. We're waking you up at 8 am for breakfast, and we'll be arriving in the Capitol at noon."

I finish my food at the same time that Linda does, and then we both retire to our rooms to think about the days to come.

* * *

The Train, June 16, 6:30 pm

 **Alayne Suzuki (16) POV**

 **District 6 female**

Even though Brian and I chose to be trained separately, we still spend some time together after dinner and before bed. We found a car with a couch and a TV, and we're sitting together making small talk. Despite the fact that neither of us wants to ally with the other, we're being civil to each other because that's what District partners do. Neither of us wants an enemy before we even meet the other tributes.

"Did you see anyone you wanted to ally with?" I ask, picking out a grape from the bowl we're sharing.

"I'm not sure yet," he says. "I want allies, I know that for sure, but I want to partner up with someone smart. It's hard to tell someone's intelligence just by looking at them. But Districts 3 and 5 are usually pretty smart. The girls look a lot more promising than the boys in both places."

"That's fair," I say.

"What about you?" he asks. "Anyone jump out at you?"

"I like the girls from 3 and 7," I say. "And both from 10. I wouldn't ally with all of them, though."

"Why?" he asks. "Do you like them, that is."

"They seem nice," I respond. "If I'm going to ally with someone, I want it to be someone I can trust."

"You don't think making a friend in the arena is dangerous?" he asks, perplexed.

"It's better than literally being stabbed in the back," I say. "Besides, we all know that only one person can win, so I think we're all smart enough to not get too attached to anyone."

"I guess," he says. "I just feel bad for this year's token romance. That never goes well."

"True," I say. "Who do you think it'll be this year?"

"The pair from 12," he says after a moment.

"Really?" I ask. "I was more so thinking the girl from 1 and the boy from 4."

"Only time will tell, I guess," Brian says.

"I don't think I'll end up partnering with the girl from District 7," I say. "I bet she joins the Careers."

"I thought you said she seemed nice," he says, confused.

"Yeah, but she looks strong," I say. "The Careers will probably want her, and you can't exactly say no to them unless you want to risk your life."

"That's true," he says. "Anyway, I think I'm gonna go to the room where I'm sleeping. I want to be alone for a while. Let things sink in, you know?"

"I get it," I say. "See you tomorrow!"

He gets up from the couch and leaves, and I find myself aimlessly channel surfing, discontented with everything that comes on. All that's on TV right now is recaps of the Reapings, commentary on the tributes and reruns of past Games. Eventually, I settle on a show where two middle-aged women are commenting on each of the tributes and how they think they'll do. They're pretty harsh. It's immediately clear that they have a strong liking for all of the Careers and not many others. They feel bad for the young kids and the people who knew last year's tributes, but they don't think they'll win. The favorite to win seems to be the monstrous attractive guy from 2, and I can't blame them. If I was a Capitol citizen, I'd put my money on him as well. They talk about me for a moment. They said they think I'm pretty but don't see me lasting very long. I can't blame them.

The show goes on for hours and I eventually find myself pretty physically and mentally exhausted, so I trudge to my bed car, change into pajamas and fall asleep before 10 pm. Tomorrow's going to be a long day, and I should definitely get my sleep.

* * *

The Train, June 16, 7:00 pm

 **Cyno Holding (12) POV**

 **District 3 male**

Now that it's guaranteed that I'm going into the Hunger Games, it's just a matter of how I'm going to die. I'm not going to win. 13-year-olds from District 3 just don't do that. So if I know I have to die, do I kill myself before anyone else gets the chance to? If I do it myself, I'll know when it's coming. But when would I do it? _How_ would I do it? If I want to do it anytime during the Games, I would have to run into the bloodbath, get a weapon, run away and use it on myself before anyone has a chance to kill me. It's a tall order.

What if I were to let someone else kill me? It would be sort of a nice thing to do. If I approach someone during the bloodbath and let them kill me, it would raise their kill count and mean better things for them. That's a really good idea. However, there is every chance that I'll get cold feet during the bloodbath and not want to die, so I should have a backup plan. If I decide against my plan after I've run to the Cornucopia, I'll just grab whatever is near me and run away.

What if someone wants me as an ally? I'd probably say yes to anyone that was Reaped; if I decide I want to survive for a while, they can help me do that, and if I decide I want to die them it won't matter because I'll already be dead. But that's probably irrelevant because no one will want to partner up with me.

Sighing, I exit my bed car and go to the dining car for a snack and find Heather sitting at the table with her mentor Delta. The two are deep in conversation when I approach the table and grab a blue frosted cupcake.

"Hi, Cyno," Heather says, warmly.

"Hi," I respond with a smile. "I… I'm sorry for how I reacted during the Reaping. I know you were just trying to help."

"Don't worry about it," she says. "I don't blame you. You were scared, and I was too."

"Thanks for understanding," I say, relieved.

She doesn't respond and the silence becomes unbearable, so I take my cupcake back to my bed car to avoid making it still more awkward. I sigh once I'm alone again. Heather has been talking to her mentor for hours, but the only exchange I had with mine was when we introduced ourselves over dinner. He's sort of a distant person, and I get the feeling he doesn't like me very much, so I'm pretty sure we'll only see each other when we have to. Besides, when it's almost guaranteed that I'm going to die, what good is a mentor anyway? All he's going to do is give me advice on how to die less early on. I don't want to waste his time, so I decide to all but isolate myself from him.

* * *

The Train, June 16, 8:00 pm

 **Dustin Zigmund (18) POV**

 **District 4 male**

"If a non-Career tribute were to win, who do you think it would be?" I ask.

"The girl from 7," Penny responds instantly. "Who do you think will be the first to die?"

"The boy from 3," I say, just as effortlessly. "How many people do you think will die in the bloodbath?"

"Six, because that's how many died the last two years," she says after some consideration. "How long do you think it will take for Coral to kill me for volunteering instead of Elle?"

District 4's female mentor this year is Coral Ivory, who is good friends with Star Fire, last year's tribute, and Elle Maults, the girl who was supposed to volunteer this year. Penny was supposed to volunteer last year, but Star volunteered before she got the chance to, so Penny did the same thing to Elle.

"The real question is how long will it take for me to kill you," I joke. "I can't believe you did that."

"What was I supposed to do?" she asks. "I should have volunteered last year, so I was just doing it this year because I didn't get the chance when I was supposed to. Besides, you weren't supposed to volunteer either. Where's your justification for that?"

"I realized that Daniel wasn't ready," I say, simply. "I watched him train, and he just didn't have it in him."

"And you do?" she asks.

"Quite frankly, yes," I say. "They don't let just anyone be a trainer."

"Fair enough," she says. "What do you think our costumes will be?"

"Probably nothing new," I say. "District 4 has been in various states of undress for as long as I can remember, so I doubt they'll change it now."

"That's true," Penny says. "I just hope it's well received. If half of our alliance wasn't even supposed to volunteer this year, we'll probably need all the help we can get."

"I disagree," I say. "Just because we weren't necessarily supposed to volunteer this year doesn't mean that we aren't prepared. We've both spent our whole lives training for this, so even though we're not the most qualified, we're still plenty good enough."

"I suppose," she says. "I really hope one of us wins. I'm sick of District 4 placing second."

"Me too," I agree. "If neither of us wins, I at least want to not be in second place."

We both laugh slightly uncomfortably as we realize that only one of us can win if that. We glance at each other, and Penny winces while I sigh.

"If we both make it to the breakup of the Careers," Penny begins. "I don't want to team up with you."

"Same," I say. "By then it'll be near the end and I don't want us getting attached to each other when only one can win."

"Good," she says. "Um, do you want to watch TV?"

"You do that," I say. "I'm gonna go talk to the mentors. Hey, we can switch if you want. Coral can be my mentor if you don't want to-"

"Absolutely not," she interrupts. "I have a score to settle with her, and she won't talk to me unless she's my mentor."

"Okay," I say, wearily. "Just… I don't know, take everything she says with a grain of salt. If something doesn't seem right, don't do it. I don't think she would mind seeing you die. And it wouldn't be unlike her to give you bad advice."

"I didn't think about that," she says, thoughtfully. "Thanks for letting me know."

I stand from the couch and go back to the dining car where the mentors and escort are. They give me advice I already knew prior to going into this, so after a while of nodding politely, I decide to just go to bed.

* * *

The Train, June 16, 9:00 pm

 **Terry Kartcher (18) POV**

 **District 10 female**

Angus and Rowan are sitting in the dining car at the table and Piper went to bed early, leaving Fenton and me to talk in the car where we watched the recaps of the Reapings. I already decided that my ideal allies would be the girls from 6 and 7, but I haven't run the idea past Fenton yet.

"I think I know who I want to ally with," I say, cautiously.

"I know who is like you to ally with as well," he responds with equal hesitation.

"I like Alayne and Lydia," I say. "The girls from 6 and 7. They seem-"

"You should try to join the Careers," he says quickly.

"I… What?" I ask. "But I don't… Why?"

"Terry, you're beautiful," he says. I blush, despite knowing Fenton for years. "There's not a doubt in my mind that that alone will get you major sponsors, but it also means that the Careers will want you to join them. If you say no to them, it makes you a target. Plus, if you get them to trust you, they'll keep you safe for a really long time."

"Okay," I say, slowly nodding. "That makes sense, I guess."

"Playing up your appearance will probably end up being the main focus of your whole angle," he says. "Sponsors like a pretty face and-"

"Wait, hang on," I say. "Do I have a say in this?"

"What do you mean?" he asks. "You were okay with it 20 seconds ago."

This angle honestly is my best chance at survival, but all it will do is confirm everyone else's beliefs back home that I'm a whore. Is that a chance I'm willing to take? Would I rather live and be hated, or die and be… Well, I'm already pretty hated.

"Fine," I say. "I'll do it."

"Well, if you're uncomfortable-"

"Seriously, Fenton," I say. "It's fine. I guess I was just worried what the people back home would think. But everyone already dislikes me, and I don't think it can get much worse, so what the hell?"

"I'm sorry if this kills you," he says. "I'm kind of new at this."

"That's forgivable," I say, laughing.

Fenton and I talk for the next hour and a half or so about my strategy for the Games; how to appear attractive, bubbly, and confident no matter who I'm with or what I'm doing. We also devise a backup plan for if the Careers don't want me, which is entirely acceptable. The backup plan is to use my looks, as in the original plan and try to form an alliance with the boys from 8 and 9.

"So definitely not the girls from 6 and 7?" I ask, slightly disappointed.

"I can't actually tell you what to do," he says. "But I strongly advise against it."

* * *

The Train, June 16, 10:00 pm

 **Lydia Collins (17) POV**

 **District 7 female**

Even in getting ready for bed, my entire experience thus far in the Hunger Games process feels surreal. I took a shower in scalding water and was sprayed from every angle with soaps and oils, and when I got out, I was blasted dry with heaters on the floor, ceiling, and walls, which also bush and part my hair. I'm dry before I could have even thought of grabbing a towel. Once I'm showered, dried, and dressed in pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt, I head back to the cart where I'm supposed to sleep.

I get into bed but find it nearly impossible to wind down after all the anxiety that the day brought. I start overthinking everything like I've always done when I'm tired no matter the situation. When I just realized that I had feelings for Elliot, I would stay up all night playing scenarios in my head where I told him and he wasn't okay with it and we stopped being friends. Every time I had a test at school, I'd be up all night thinking about failing and what that would mean for my grades. I guess I've always been a worrier.

Tonight, I'm kept awake by the thoughts of exactly what is going to happen to me by the end of the month. I've accepted that it's more than likely that I'll die, but I know that the only possible way for me to not die is to try not to. Nobody has made it out of the Games without trying harder for it than they have anything else. But will anyone want to team up with me? Will I find anyone that I want to team up with? What if I'm totally unprepared for the arena? What if I make a stupid mistake and it gets me killed?

My head is spinning, so I turn on the lights and look around the room for something that can distract me; something that can calm my nerves. There's a bookshelf that takes up an entire wall of the car and after some consideration, I pick a book that talks about each of the Districts of Panem. District 7 is really isolated (I'm assuming all of the Districts are), so I take this as an opportunity to see if I can learn about the other tributes without even talking to them. I don't learn much because it's hard for me to focus, but I do figure out that citizens from District 12 can't start work in the mines until they're 18, so neither of the tributes will be particularly skilled with a pickaxe. The same law applies to District 2, but I'd be willing to bet that Christopher and Alecto are able to use more weapons than just a pickaxe.

After a while of reading about how laws vary by District, I find myself unable to focus on what I'm reading so I skip to the section for District 7 and stare at the pictures of the forests at home letting them calm me enough to get me to bed.

* * *

The Train, June 16, 11:00 pm

 **Calico Jones (16) POV**

 **District 8 female**

"I can change you!" Conn protests, following me to my bed. "I have a friend who's just like you. Kalia. She's a... She sells herself too."

"You can say 'prostitute," Conn," I say. "It's not an offensive word."

"Well, it makes me uncomfortable," he says. "Anyway, I just want you to know that everything will be okay. I know it might feel like you're broken sometimes-"

"It doesn't."

"-But that doesn't mean anyone needs to fix you."

"I'm aware."

"And I just want you to know that if you want someone with you in the arena, I'm here for you."

"Thanks, but no," I say, trying desperately to close the door to my car. "I'm planning on going this alone. I'm sure someone else will want to ally with you."

"You think so?" he asks.

"I know so," I respond, turning my back. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to bed, okay?"

"Okay," he says. "Night, Cal."

"Night, Conn," I say. I shut the door to my car and look around, happy to finally be able to go to sleep after a long and tiring day. I undress and change into pajamas, tucking my box of cigarettes under my pillow and badly wanting one. I reach for the pack and stop myself, taking deep breaths. I need to save them if I have any chance of surviving the arena, so I hold back.

I walk around the room, trying to distract myself when I find a small red button labeled "Avox service." Wonderful. I press it and within seconds, there's a knock at my door and a guy about my age and on the short side appears on the other side.

"Do you have cigarettes?" I ask. He gives me a quick nod and turns to leave. "Oh, and vodka?"

Another nod, and I smile. I let him leave and he returns a few minutes later with a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of vodka, and a shot glass on a tray. I thank him, taking the tray and he leaves. I smoke one of the cigarettes to calm my nerves and eventually find several of them gone, so I get to drinking. A few shots later, I've forgotten what I needed to forget and crawl into bed to sleep.

* * *

 **I have an extensive POV lineup so every tribute will have exactly 2 POVs before the bloodbath. No more, no less. Sorry also that the POVs varied in length; some people just had more going on, and it doesn't mean I like your character any more or any less. If your character has a short POV in any of the chapters to come, it's likely that their other pre-Games POV will be substantially longer. Alternatively, I have plans for them to appear in a lot of other people's sections and I don't want you to get sick of them.**

 **Questions!**

 **1) Thoughts on Avalon?**

 **2) Whose POV was your favorite of the chapter?**

 **3) Predictions?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


	18. Tribute Parade

_Life's too short to worry about what people think of you.  
_ -Lily Casey Smith

* * *

The Train, June 17, 2:00 pm

 **Coral Ivory (19) District 4 Mentor POV**

 **Victor of the 222nd Hunger Games**

"There it is," Penny whispers. "The Capitol."

I roll my eyes and sigh. It hasn't even been 24 hours and I'm already so done with her. First, she breaks my best friend's ankle, which makes her feel like she has something to prove and dies. Then, she prevents my other best friend from following her dreams. Now she's just being flat out annoying. I've begged the other mentor, Archer Hudson, to switch with me countless times, but he refused. So I'm stuck with Penny and I can't even give her bad advice because then I won't be allowed to mentor anymore. Victors get paid extra the years that they mentor.

"Penny, calm down," I say, adjusting my black crop top and white shorts. "You're supposed to be confident, not eager. No one in the Capitol is going to like you if you keep acting like this."

"I just-" she protests.

"Whatever," I say. "Archer, Dustin, come here!"

After a moment, the boys walk into the room. Dustin is wearing cargo shorts and a sky blue T-shirt the same shade as Penny's sundress. Admittedly, they look good together. Archer and I match as well; his shorts are black and his shirt is white, so we're each other's inverse. Even Azura is wearing a black, white and sky blue ensemble. I give each of us a once over and smile. District 4 looks damn good for the cameras.

"Alright guys," I begin. "This is the first look the Capitol is going to have of you outside of the Reaping. Do you remember your angles?"

"Determined but sweet," Penny says.

"Casual," Dustin follows.

"Excellent," Archer says. "Remember, when you get out there, make lots of eye contact. Make the people waiting for you notice you. Both of you, Penny especially, lots of smiles. Are you ready?"

Both tributes nod and Azura grins and presses the button that will open the door to the train so we can get out.

"Remember, everyone," she says. "Left foot first! Coral, Penny, get on my left, Archer and Dustin on my right! Tributes next to me, mentors on the outside."

We all step out of the train and are immediately hit with people taking pictures of us. Between people asking Archer and me for autographs and pictures with them to people slamming Penny and Dustin with questions about the Games, it's enough to put all of us on sensory overload. Eventually, we make the walk from the train to the Tribute Building and find ourselves safely inside.

"Penny, Dustin, Azura is going to take you to the Remake Center," Archer says. "It's a basement underneath the Training Center. The building has two basements. Coral and I are going to go up to District 4's floor of the Tribute Building and make sure everything is okay. The parade starts at 8:00, and we'll be down to see you by 7. Sound good?"

"Yup," Dustin says.

Azura leaves with Penny and Dustin and once they're out of sight, Archer and I walk to the elevator. We step in directly after Irene and Cyrus Chap from District 1 do, and I smile at them.

"How are your tributes this year?" I ask as Archer presses the 4 button.

"Really good, actually," Cyrus says. "Julius especially. They're friendly with each other, so they'll work well as a team. I'd be surprised if either of them pulled less than a 9 in training."

"Great to hear," I say. "My tribute is a little bitch."

"Coral…" Archer warns.

"What's up with Penny?" Irene asks.

"I just have a history with her. And this one," I say, looking towards Archer. "Won't let me trade with him."

The elevator stops on District 1's floor and Irene and Cyrus bid us goodbye. Once we get to our floor, we do a quick walk-around to make sure everything is in order, and it looks like everything is. All of the electronics work, the beds are made and there's an Avox in every corner.

"I'm gonna take a nap," I say. "Wake me up when we have to leave."

"Will do," Archer says.

With that, I go to my room and quickly fall asleep. I've never done well sleeping on trains.

* * *

The Remake Center, June 17, 3:30 pm

 **Tessa Ray (15) POV**

 **District 12 female**

My prep team is made up of three women, some more colorful than others. Liana is my favorite. She has tan skin, rose gold hair and bright green eyes. With a black dress and gold heels and jewelry, she has the best fashion sense out of all of them. She's in charge of my makeup. The woman who's doing my hair is named Felista, and she has scaly green skin, yellow eyes, and one long, dark green braid. She looks like a lizard, and it's freaking me the hell out. Lastly, my nails are getting done by a woman named Angith, who has hot pink hair, eyes, and skin. It hurts to look at her.

"You are so gorgeous!" Felista exclaims, dragging her claws through my hair.

"I know," I say, pompously, sitting up a bit straighter in my chair.

"We'll have to wax her, though," Liana says. "Maybe do a pore strip."

Are they really sitting here calling me a hairy, pimply beast? In my presence? I glare at them, but they don't notice.

"We're going to leave the room," Angith chirps. "While we're gone, we need you to get undressed and put on that robe." She gestures to a chair where a gray silk robe sits. The three of them exit, and filled with fear that they'll come back while I'm naked, I take off my dress and put on the robe faster than I've ever changed in my life. I don't usually rush; when I was young, my father told me that I was a special and beautiful girl who was well worth waiting for, and from that day on, I decided not to hurry for anyone.

Once I've changed, I sit primly in the chair and wait for a few minutes for them to come back. Looks like I made a mistake rushing, but better safe than sorry. They eventually come back and escort me to a different room full of shower products. Liana motions for me to take off the robe and I do, slightly hesitantly, before getting into the warm bubble bath in the center of the room. Felista washes my hair, Angith files my nails, and Liana exfoliates my entire body. Honestly, if not for the nakedness, I could get used to this. That's just more incentive to win.

When that's done, I step out of the tub and am immediately blasted dry by vents that also untangle my hair. I reach for the robe to put it back on, but Angith stops me, shaking her head and motioning for me to lay down on a metal bed. The three of them then spend an unbearably long time waxing my body, and it's making me want to die.

That's over after what feels like an eternity, and they move onto actually doing my hair, makeup, and nails. Felisita puts some curls in my otherwise pin straight hair and pins back the front pieces, pulling out some strands to frame my face. Angith paints my nails matte black with silver tips; the black is unsurprising, being from the crappy coal District, but the silver has me hopeful. Maybe we won't be dressed up as coal miners. Last year was pretty cool, as was the year before. I'm hoping they keep it up for at least this year. I can't see the makeup as it's being applied, but I can see that Liana tends to be favoring silver and black eyeshadows, liquid eyeliner and fluttery false lashes. I'm handed a mirror, and by the end of the transformation, in my robe, I look like a prostitute. Not a cheap one from the Seam, though; like a trophy wife who needed a hobby.

"What do you think, Tessa?" Liana asks.

"Do you like it?" Felista asks.

I nod, smiling genuinely.

"Wait until she sees her costume," Angith whispers to them.

This puzzles me even more, and I'm forced to wait to see if the costume is really good or really bad, and with everything in me, I hope it's the former over the latter.

* * *

The Remake Center, June 17, 7:00 pm

 **Marsellus Hopson (18) POV**

 **District 9 male**

Waiting for my spray tan to set in gives me a lot of time to think about the coming weeks, as well as my life thus far. No amount of expecting to be Reaped could have prepared me for actually hearing my name called yesterday. My family is the largest in the District, and I've taken out all of the tessera allowed, including Portia while she was alive. All of this coupled with the fact that this was my last year of eligibility means that I had more names in the bowl than anyone else in the District. But still, I was completely shocked when I was chosen for the Games.

Oneka, on the other hand seemed less shocked and more… Well, I don't want to say happy, but her tears didn't look sad. What possible reason could she have where she wanted to be Reaped for the Games? She seems nice enough, but based on the train ride here alone, she's a pretty negative person, and while I would usually be fine allying with my District partner, I don't need more negativity before I'm supposed to fight for my life. I want to have as clear of a head as I can, because if I can come out of the arena alive, I would like to.

I guess I could say that she seemed relieved. While I would like the next week or so to last forever to avoid going into the Games, she seems like she wants to rush through them, as if she just wants to get to the point. What a shame that this time is going to fly by for me but crawl at a snail's pace for her. The universe isn't kind enough to give us both what we want, so instead, neither of us gets it. I understand that the concept of time in and of itself is a human construct, but it would have been nice to be able to pretend that everything was okay.

Oneka has helped me though, and I don't imagine she knows why. Seeing her in this vulnerable state reminds me a lot of my mother's constant postpartum depression. Seeing the pain in her eyes, indicative of a bad life just from the bad luck she inherited from her parents, took me back to the days when my mother would be curled up into a ball on the floor, sobbing and mumbling unidentifiable things to anyone that would listen.

" _Marsellus…" a small voice whispers behind me, as I'm faced watching our mother lying face-down on the concrete floor. "Why is mommy crying?"_

" _Jayden, go outside," I say, as gently as I can. "Take your brother and go outside. I'll talk to Mom, okay?"_

 _The twins go outside, leaving me at age twelve to attempt to console my desperately sobbing mother. Already, I'm past the point of stroking her hair and encouraging her, telling her that everything would be okay. I passed that point the same day I realized that it is not my responsibility, especially at age twelve, to look after my mother and not the other way around. As selfish as it seemed, it wasn't my place, and I couldn't deal with the pressure anymore._

" _Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" I ask, my voice flat, my gaze fixed past her._

" _It's… It's just…" she stumbles, trying to find the right words. "It's your first year for the Reaping in a few weeks. My first time having one of my kids eligible. I just wish there was something I could do to-"_

" _Well, you can't," I say, cutting her off. "You can't do anything to protect me, especially not in your current mental state. You can't protect us when you can barely even protect yourself."_

" _But that's not fair," she says, sobs wracking her body._

" _That's life," I respond._

* * *

The Remake Center, June 17, 7:00 pm

 **Adelaide Simon (15) POV**

 **District 11 female**

Even with my weeks in the Capitol during last year's Games, I've never met anyone quite like my stylist and prep team. My stylist, Raff, is a man with deep coffee colored skin and hair dyed to look like a rainbow, and my prep team is each a different metallic color; my makeup artist is gold, the nail artist is silver, and the hair stylist is rose gold. They did my makeup in rose tones, straightened my hair, and painted my nails a pearly pink color.

When my stylist handed me the hanger with my costume on it, I expected the worst. The entire costume was covered with a layer of black nylon material, and I took it off to reveal a costume more colorful than I would pick out for myself, but ultimately nowhere near as bad as it could have been. Don't get me wrong, it's not as good as the season changing costumes District 11 had last year, but it's far better than the overalls, plaid shirts and straw hats which we're usually saddled with for being the agriculture District. The four colorful Capitolites left the room to allow me to change with some privacy, which I appreciated. I took off the robe that was provided for me and started putting the costume on.

The first thing I pull out is a pink bralette covered in protruding flowers, a piece more cute than sultry. The next is a flared skirt that hits just above my knee, which looks like it's made out of giant pink flower petals. I put them on, then rifle around in the bottom of the bag for the other pieces. I withdraw the most complicated pair of shoes I've ever seen; peach gladiator sandals that lace all the way up my legs to the middle of my thighs. With some struggle, I manage to put them on. Lastly, there's a hair clip adorned with flowers and berries. I hold off on putting that on because it looks complex and I don't want to do it wrong, but I hold it up to the side of my head to see how it would look, along with taking in my outfit in the full-length mirror.

The door opens, and my stylist and prep team walk in.

"Do you like it?" Raff asks.

"I really do," I say. "You did a good job. What's Coy in?"

"Vest, pants, and boots," he says. "In a color scheme to match your headpiece."

"Cute," I say.

Raff motions for me to sit in a director's chair, and I do without hesitation. He takes a section of my hair and teases it at the top so the headpiece will stay in place better.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"7:30," Raff says, checking his large gold watch. The parade starts in an hour, and I have to admit I'm a little nervous. What if people don't like me? I know it's not likely that I'll come out of the Games alive, but the thought of there being no one who wants me to win is discouraging, to say the least. "Are you okay?"

"I guess," I say. "I'm just trying to get into a better mindset. The parade has me kind of anxious."

"I get it," he says. "But I'm sure they'll love you. Last year's girl from District 11 was so unladylike; a real nightmare, if I'm being honest. And the year before that, she was only 12 and didn't have a fighting chance. But you're different. I have high hopes for you, Adelaide."

"Thank you," I say. "I'll try not to let you down."

"I'm sure you won't," he says, smiling. "Let's go next door and get Coy. You can be early to the parade and scope out the competition as they arrive. Maybe even get some allies, if either of you are into that."

Coy and I have already decided that we're allying with each other, and we'd like to get another person or two if we can. Since Coy and I each lost someone to the Games last year, it would be a dream if we could get the girl from 10 to join us, that would be perfect, but we're open to just about anyone who isn't a Career.

"Sounds great," I say. "Lead the way."

* * *

The Remake Center, June 17, 7:00 pm

 **Elijah Stork (16) POV**

 **District 5 male**

"Now, let me see you two together," my stylist says, motioning for me to stand next to Clio. "Yes, just like that. Now, twirl."

Clio looks up so her eyes meet mine, rolling her eyes slightly. I don't know why she is so opposed to this. We just spent the last several hours being completely made over, and now she doesn't even want to show it off. She looks good, too. We're both wearing completely gray outfits with electric blue accents, giving the illusion of sparks flying. Random springs adorn our costumes, fully embodying District Five. I like it, and I don't understand at all why she doesn't.

"Clio, you have to smile," her stylist says. "You have to _mean_ it. Or at least pretend. What makes you happy? What can you think about to get you smiling?"

She meets her stylist's eye, followed by my own, and when it becomes apparent that none of us are going to help her out, she shrugs.

"Any friends?" my stylist asks, trying to help. "Parents, siblings, pets?"

"No," she says, flatly. "But… I'll smile, I guess. If it'll help."

"Wonderful!" her stylist exclaims. "Oh, you two look so lovely together. Your coloring and your features… It was as if you were made to stand together."

"Much more attractive than most of the kids we get from your District, too," mine pitches in Except maybe Miss Schripe, but she was only pretty after we were through with her."

"I always thought Alicia was beautiful," her stylist says simply. "Clio and Elijah are a different kind of beauty entirely."

"We should be getting to the stables, anyway," my stylist says, panicking. "We don't want to be late."

I open the door for the others, letting them out first. I spin around, take a last look at the room, and set off to make my second impression on the country.

* * *

The Remake Center, June 17, 7:30 pm

 **Edison Burt (12) POV**

 **District 7 male**

Looking down at my red plaid button-down shirt and pants that both look and feel like tree bark, I feel nothing but the utmost confusion as to what my stylist and prep team were going for with my costume. It's definitely unique to anything I've seen District 7 wear for the Tribute Parade in years past, but that just makes it all the more confusing to figure out what I'm supposed to be.

"Exactly what am I dressed as?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Can't you see it, Edison?!" exclaims my eccentric stylist, Huck Overwhill. "I wanted to dress you both as trees, and Lydia's stylist Rumor wanted to dress you as lumberjacks. Well, we love both ideas, so we decided to dress the top half of you as lumberjacks and the bottom half as trees. What do you think?"

I sigh. "Frankly, I find the idea of both trees and lumberjacks to be unoriginal and derivative of the ideas of the stylists who came before you," I say. "A more original idea would be something like paper craft, or some wildlife. Even a few years ago when they were dressed as birds was better than this."

"Serves us right for trying to be creative," Huck says, annoyed. "We spend our whole lives trying to make you kids happy before you die and this is the thanks we get!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way," I begin, insincerely. "But this is the life you chose for yourself, so you need to grow up and deal with it. You chose to be a stylist, so you should have seen things such as this coming. I, however, did not choose to be a tribute in the Hunger Games, so I like to think I have every reason to complain."

Huck sighs. "I honestly don't remember the last time I had a tribute as annoying as you are," he says in a clipped tone. "You should be grateful that you get a free trip to the Capitol. Not to mention the fact that we're even spending time on you. If we were really lazy, we could just send you both out there with nothing but maple leaves covering your-"

"I get the picture," I say, shortly. The last thing I want to picture right now is being naked in front of all of Panem, alongside my District partner who would likely be just as embarrassed. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I'm sure everyone watching is going to love wondering what Lydia and I are dressed as."

"Thank you," he says, not sensing my sarcasm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get your District partner so we can see you two together for any adjustments that may need to be made."

"Alright," I say. "I'll wait here."

Huck and my prep team all leave the room to get Lydia, as well as her stylist and prep team, and I'm left to reflect. I don't think I was too mean to Huck. I just don't understand why this is something he thinks we would all like taking part in. If someone wants to be in the Hunger Games, they'll volunteer for them. It's as simple as that, really. The only time a Reaped tribute is excited for the Games is if they were either from a Career District or if they were mentally insane, and I'm neither of the two. I guess that promises of honor and glory is enough to make any Capitolite go wild, but I wonder just how many of them would volunteer for the Games if the offer was presented to them. The whole lot of them are obsessed with the idea of the Games, which leads me to think that they would be similar to Districts 1, 2, and 4, but would it be different for them if it was their own daughters, sons, and friends, or would they be equally as brainwashed? Is it the physical idea of the Games that they like, or just the idea of them?

My train of thought is cut short when eight chirping Capitol citizens lead in my incredibly uncomfortable-looking District partner, clad in a floor-length, tight skirt that looks like tree bark and a red plaid button down with a deep V-neck that goes down to her ribs. The woman who I'm assuming is her stylist due to her position next to Huck and in front of the others motions for Lydia to stand next to me, which she does with some reluctance. I have to strain my neck slightly to look up at her, because she has quite a few inches on me. I remind myself that she's 18, and could probably best any number of tributes- aside from Careers, of course- in any form of physical altercation. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I once again have to remind myself that she's my District partner, and that District partners don't cause each other harm unless it's absolutely necessary. If she were to kill me and return home victorious, she would be shunned. Better off dying in the arena, in my opinion.

"Yes," Huck says, nodding with his hand on his chin. "I like this a lot. Both of you, give me a spin?"

I meet eyes with Lydia again and she offers me a small smirk before twirling slightly. I follow suit.

"I think they're ready, Huck," says Lydia's stylist.

"I agree," he agrees, smiling bigger than ever. "Let's get them down to the Stables, shall we?"

Lydia gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and we leave the prep-room, coming closer to our inevitable deaths with every step we take.

* * *

The Hallway June 17, 8:30 pm

 **Christopher "Topher" Price (17) POV**

 **District 2 male**

As soon as Alecto and I saw each other, she practically dragged me to the Stables, grabbing my wrist and rushing me in the direction the signs were pointing us. She's an unexpectedly fast walker, but she has much shorter legs than I do.

"What's the rush?" I ask.

"S- Scope it out," she says, with a slight frustrated sigh. "Get there f- first."

I stop dead in my tracks. "Why didn't you say so?" I ask, bending over slightly. "Get on. I'd bet my life I'm a faster runner than you."

After some hesitation, she reluctantly climbs onto my back, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. As soon as I'm sure she's secure, I take off in a sprint and we both start laughing. We pass by a very confused looking pair from District 10 who stare at us, not knowing what to make of us, probably because District 2 is notorious for being vicious and emotionless.

"No questions!" I shout, laughing. "Something to prove!"

We continue running and Alecto starts laughing even harder, which makes me laugh. Eventually, we reach the Stables and burst through the door, only to be confronted by the wimpy looking pair from District 11.

"Son of a bitch," I mutter, putting Alecto down. "We tried. Want to find somewhere to sit and wait?"

She nods half-heartedly, and the two of us walk over to a bench which sits against the wall. I sit down and she sits on my left, and we wait for a few moments for the doors to swing open again, revealing Penny and Dustin from District 4. I wave them down and they come over, moving with no real purpose so as to allow the pair from 11 to notice them. They make it over to the bench, and since there's no room for all of us to sit on it, Alecto and I stand to meet them.

"I'm Penny," she says, smiling.

"Dustin," says her District partner.

"My name's Christopher, but I like Topher better," I say, shaking both of their hands. "This is Alecto."

"Can she not introduce herself?" Penny asks, narrowing her eyes.

"She doesn't say much," I say, simply. I didn't get the full story from Alecto, but from what she did tell me, she was in an accident that impairs her speech, and I don't want to press her. I'm not that much of an asshole.

"Fine," Penny says. "Did you guys look at anyone else to join the alliance? Obviously all six of us are just fine, but…"

"Neither of us is opposed to the girl from District 7," I say.

"We talked about her as well," Dustin says. "The girl from 10 could be good for attracting sponsors, if nothing else."

As if on cue, the tributes from District 10 walk into the stable, and the pair from 11 immediately approach the girl, while the boy wanders off by himself. She only talks with them for a moment before I see her shake her head and walk away. I meet her eye and she winks, walking past us to claim a different bench.

"Topher and what's-her-face sitting in a tree," Penny sings. "F-U-C-"

"For the record," I say, cutting her off. "I'm all but engaged, and if I win the Games, I will be."

"Cute," Penny says, sounding like she doesn't really mean it.

"You know," Dustin starts, staring at the girl from 10. "It wouldn't be the worst idea to let her into the alliance. She's already gonna have sponsors up the ass, so it couldn't hurt to aim those sponsors towards us."

"Do you have a crush, Dustin?" I ask, faking a sarcastic sympathy.

"Nah," he says, smirking. "The girl from 1 is more my type."

"Fair enough," I say. "I do like the idea of the girl from 10, now that I think about it. I guess we'll just have to see how she does in training."

"Sounds good," Penny says.

"Agreed," says Alecto, curtly.

Less than a minute later, Linda and Julius walk in, both looking as great as the rest of the Careers. We repeat the whole hand-shaking process; me introducing Alecto, Linda being confused, but this time, Dustin explains.

"She doesn't say much," he says. The tributes from 1 nod.

"I was thinking we could invite Conn and/or Marsellus into the alliance," Linda proposes.

"Whom are they?" Penny asks.

"The boys from 8 and 9-" Julius supplies. "They both seem pretty-"

"More importantly," I interrupt. "Did you just use the word _whom_?"

"It's grammatically correct!" Penny protests.

"It's actually not," Linda say.

"And how would you know?" Penny asks, crossing her arms.

"I can be smart _and_ pretty," she responds.

"I don't think you're either," Penny says snidely.

"Girls, girls," I interject. "You're both pretty. Can we stop arguing please?"

"Topher's right," Julius says. "We have to get along if we want to have any chance of having one of us win."

"Fine," Penny says. "Truce?"

"Yeah," Linda says, half-heartedly.

In the next half hour, the rest of the tributes trickle in, and before I know it, the parade is starting.

* * *

The Stables, June 17, 8:15 pm

 **Coy Levionne (12) POV**

 **District 11 male**

Adelaide and I were the first people to arrive at the stables, but the pair from District 2 followed soon after. Unsurprising. They both seemed pretty upset that they didn't get here first. Also unsurprising. The last District to show up was 3, and both tributes looked extremely upset when they got here. They showed up with only 15 minutes to spare, while Adelaide and I came an hour early.

In the time that we've been here, we've talked to the girls from Districts 6 and 10, as well as both from 12. Alayne and Adrian said that they were open to an alliance, but that they would have to see how we did in training first, Terry said we just weren't what she was looking for, and Tessa flat-out refused. It's a start.

"Do you think we should talk to Heather and Cyno?" I ask Adelaide as she scans the room.

"Coy," she begins. "You're only 12, and you have more maturity than both of them combined. There aren't many people I don't want to ally with, but both of them are on that list."

"I guess," I say.

"Tributes, please enter your chariots," says a bored looking Capitol man with a clipboard. "The parade will be beginning in two minutes."

I don't know much about the Capitol yet, but I do know that when someone with a clipboard tells you to do something, it would be wise to do it, so I step into District 11's chariot, and Adelaide follows suit. Once everyone is in their chariots, the lights in the stables go completely out.

After a few moments of a still, dark silence, a pair of double doors open, shining a bright white light on the entrance. District 1's chariot pulls out into the light, pulled by two stark white horses. Both of the tributes are wearing pale gold togas adorned with rubies, emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, and topaz, with brown leather belts and gold headbands. The girl's blonde hair is in an elaborate looking updo, and together, they resemble Greek gods. A bit overdone, but it gets a massively positive review every time.

After District 1 comes 2, and these tributes look like they're meant to represent the stone quarries themselves. The boy is wearing a dark gray jumpsuit with a lighter gray blazer and boots, and the blazer has red, blue, and yellow buttons holding it together, and has his hair combed neatly to the side. His District partner has a light gray leotard and boots with a large flared skirt of the same color as the boy's buttons, which, when it catches the light correctly, looks like sparks. It's never been done before, and the audience doesn't seem sure how to take it.

District 3 is another cliche, even worse than the Greek gods from 1. They're both wearing tight neon green pants with what looks to be circuit boards on them. The boy is wearing a vest that's the same material on one side, and the other side is composed of red and blue wires. The girl is wearing a wrap shirt made of the same wires, along with a cape, and her hair is in a slicked back ponytail. It's pretty underwhelming, and the costumes mixed with how the tributes reacted to being Reaped makes the audience want to get to District 4.

The stylists for District 4 seemed to really want to highlight the tributes' physical attractiveness. The girl is wearing a bright red bikini and is cloaked by a black fishing net, and the boy is wearing a red bathing suit and is also covered loosely by a net. Both tributes are toned and muscular, no doubt due to their years of weapons training for the Games. It's definitely not the most original costume of the night, considering that the girl from District 4 last year wore largely the same thing in blue, but it still makes the crowd go wild.

District 5 is far more original than the two Districts that came before it. The girl is wearing a blue cropped corset and a silver tutu that looks like it's made of electrically charged screws. The boy is wearing silver cropped pants, a white button-down shirt, silver suspenders and a bright blue bowtie, and his suspenders have the same charged look as his District partner's skirt. The crowd screams again.

District 6 is definitely out of the ordinary, but I'm not sure it's a good thing. Both Alayne and her District partner are wearing sheer black jumpsuits covered in what looks to be street signs covering the most important parts that need to be fully covered. Both are also wearing capes that are made to look like traffic lights. The audience gives an applause that sounds hesitant at first, then gradually grows to the magnitude of all of the other Districts.

District 7 has me legitimately confused. The stylists for the lumber District choose to dress their tributes as either trees or lumberjacks nine times out of ten, but this year, it looks like the stylists have gone for both. Both of the tributes are wearing red plaid shirts with pants that look like a tree trunk. The audience claps, but it's nowhere near as enthusiastic as it was for the six Districts that came before.

District 8 would be better if the girl would stop scowling. Both tributes are wearing the same thing; short gray leotards with dark red capes with abstract designs on them. The girl is wearing turquoise heels and the boy is barefoot in an attempt to get them closer to the same height, and he looks like he's trying to be enthusiastic enough for both of them. I can tell that he's going to be far more favored in the Capitol than his District partner.

District 9 is a similar case to the previous one, where the girl is sullen and upset and the boy is trying in vain to get the crowd's attention. They're both wearing bottoms made of wheat stalks- the girl's is a skirt that's shorter in the front than the back, and the boy's resembles a loin cloth- and both are shirtless, but the girl has necklaces covering her chest. It was an interesting tactic to go with a more sexual look, as both tributes are relatively plain looking.

District 10 is definitely better off than they were this year than last. Terry has a pair of short horns on a headband resting on her braided updo, along with a tan leotard and deep brown boots that rise up past her knees. The boy is wearing a similar outfit but with longer, more masculine looking horns and a jacket and shorts instead of a leotard. I don't blame whoever decided to dress Terry to show off skin; she's definitely not bad to look at.

Just before my and Adelaide's chariot rolls out, I turn around quickly to take one last look at Adrian and Tessa. Tessa is wearing a long sleeved black romper covered in glittering diamonds with pale silver tights and black combat boots. Adrian is wearing a similar outfit, but with shorts and a blazer instead of a romper and without tights.

Our chariot rolls out and the audience claps and cheers for us just as loud and long as they did for the others. Adelaide and I look at each other and grin, ecstatic. We were both a bit nervous that we wouldn't be well received, so it's a relief that people actually like us.

Maybe we'll get more sponsors than we thought we would.

* * *

 **So uh. It's been a while. Haven't updated this story since I was 15.**

 **Congratulations to Topher for having the longest fucking heading.**

 **There's a poll up on my profile where you can vote for your favorites!**

 **1)Thoughts on Coral?**

 **2) Whose costume was your favorite?**

 **3) Whose costume was your least favorite?**

 **4) Who do you see as a Capitol favorite at the moment?**

 **-No one says no to Gaston!**


End file.
